


The Hardest Heart

by saucyminx



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-29
Updated: 2010-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-28 09:29:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 52,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/306430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saucyminx/pseuds/saucyminx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When John finds his son in a compromising position, he's disgusted and he sends Dean away, hiding his youngest son from his eldest until Sam leaves his sight to break off and hunt on his own. Unexpected circumstances bring them back together and Dean will do all his power to make sure they stay that way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Infomercial, infomercial, home makeover show, rap videos, black and white movie, _damn_ TV sucks ass," Dean shook his head and threw the remote onto the couch beside him, turning his head to look at his little brother. "Shouldn't you be doing homework or something? Dad said I was supposed to make sure you stayed on top of it," Dean smirked. It never failed to amuse him, pestering his brother. Especially since Sam had officially reached that age where he got annoyed by the littlest things and sometimes all Dean had to do was open his mouth and Sam was rolling his eyes.

"I _did_ my homework over two hours ago _and_ I told you that I'd done it." Sam kicked out at his brother with one socked foot from where he was lying on the floor. "Jackass," he mumbled under his breath. Sam was convinced that the worst part about being fourteen was having a brother who figured the sun shone out of his own ass.

Dean blew out a low breath, "I'm so tellin' Dad what a foul mouth you have." His face split into a wide grin a moment before he jumped off the couch and fell heavily into his brother, fingers working in quick strokes against his side to hit his most ticklish spots. "Should wash it out with soap!" He laughed loudly, pinning Sam down hard into the floor as he continued his pursuit.

Trying hard not to laugh Sam ended up making a really embarrassing squeaking sound. Flushing from chest to cheeks Sam groaned and threw his arms around Dean trying to flip him. Unfortunately, Sam's limbs were far outgrowing his control over them and he wasn't quite able to get a good grip on his brother. "Stop it... ass..." Sam sputtered out shoving at Dean's chest and laughing.

"Ugh Sammy that mouth!" Dean spat and easily caught Sam's arms, pinning them down and straddling his hips in one quick moment. He sat up in victory, Sam's hands flattened beneath his knees, staring down into Sam's flushed face. "Seriously dude. I'm gonna get the soap. Youngins shouldn't be sayin' such filthy shit," he smirked and leaned forward to ruffle Sam's hair roughly under his palm, releasing his hold on Sam's arms before he could hurt him too bad.

And this was exactly why Sam had learned to detest his brother. Not only was he being tickled and forced to make embarrassing noises, but Dean was straddling him, his dick. And Dean was rubbing his ass against Sam's crotch and he was already half hard, _Jesus_ he was fourteen - he was perpetually half hard and thinking about sex once every seven minutes. He learned that at school. Once every seven minutes. Apparently, seven minutes had passed and Sam was trying to get Dean off his lap before he figured out that he was hard. Slamming his hands into his older brother's chest, Sam pushed as hard as he could and only succeeded and sliding Dean's ass back across his trapped dick. " _Fuck_ , Dean get offa me," he growled, twisting to the side.

Eyes widening slightly, Dean shook his head, "Jesus you don't learn do you?" He laughed and pressed his hips down harder into Sam to keep him rooted to the spot. Then he realized exactly why his brother was sounding so panicky and his eyes widened past the point of impossible. "Sammy... you're..." he pursed his lips, telling himself that it was just the stimulation and the fact that Sam was going through the last stages of puberty which translated to getting hard at awkward moments. He couldn't resist the little jab, "Like me on your hips Sam?" He growled and the words came out a lot huskier then he imagined, along with the gentle rock of his ass back down into the tight pressure building in Sam's crotch.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut as Dean spoke feeling the heat well up from his crotch and race up his chest. "Shut-up," he groaned. He was so pissed off; he didn't know what to do first. A yell built up in his throat and he let it go pushing up hard with his legs and flipping his brother off to the side and clambering on _Dean's_ hips. Panting, hair in his eyes, Sam leaned his weight forward pressing Dean's chest down with his hands. "Shut up," he hissed, "or I'll _make_ you shut up." His hands were shaking and his lip curled into a snarl only made worse by the amused sparkle in his brother's eyes.

Biting back his surprise, Dean painted over it with a smirk and shook his head. "You could try Sammy but I don't think you'll be able too," he chuckled and pushed up into his brother, testing his weight to find the appropriate place to flip him over at.

Sam would never be sure where it came from, _hell_ , his mind was all over the place. Puberty had basically destroyed Sam's ability to think. But his body was in motion before he really had a chance to realize what he was doing. He dropped his hands to the floor beside Dean's head and bent his elbows, dropping down and crashing his mouth into his brother's. Sam had never kissed anyone but he knew how it worked - or at least - it seemed parts of him did. He almost missed his brother's mouth completely but after leaning slightly he managed to get his lips slanted over Dean's. The heat shot further through his body the instant his lips were moving on his brother's and he moaned softly as his dick swelled painfully where it was trapped between their bodies. Sitting back, he wiped at his lips with the back of his hand and stared down at his brother's glistening lips.

This time Dean wasn't able to hide the shock on his face. His lips tingled, little darts of pleasure shooting through him from the too brief contact. Dean's eyes flickered over Sam's face in confusion for a moment, waiting for the punch line, until he felt the hard throbbing pressure of Sam pressing through his denims. "Sam," he whispered and curled his fingers around Sam's arms to push him off. Only he didn't push him off so much as he dragged him back down and crashed their lips together, mouth slanting easily over Sam, tongue instantly snaking forward to seek permission inside tight heat.

Sam's lips parted, half in surprise and half in curiosity and when Dean's tongue slid into his mouth he moaned again almost collapsing against his brother's body. He didn't know what to do with his lips, or his tongue or anything and he ended up desperately sucking on his brother's tongue trying to get _more_ of the heated feeling that was flooding through his veins. Kissing his brother. _Kissing_ his brother. Sam's body reeled back slamming into the coffee table as he crawled backwards. He cried out in pain as the corner of the table jammed into his shoulder blade and sat there panting, flushed, eyes glassy and wide as he stared down at Dean.

Pushing up, Dean blinked rapidly at Sam before shoving up off the ground and taking off down the hall. He slammed the bathroom door hard behind him, panting heavily as his head fell back against the wooden surface. "Jesus _Christ_ ," he hissed, lifting his head and letting it fall over and over into the wood until it actually started to hurt. He couldn't believe he'd just done that. "Fucking _fuck_ ," he spat and stumbled forward, hands curling tightly around the bathroom counter.

Shoulder aching, lips burning, and his dick still harder than hell, Sam pushed up off the floor and darted down the hallway almost falling over as his socked feet slipped out from under him just outside their bedroom door. He rounded the corner and slammed the door shut behind him throwing himself face down on the bed. Obviously, there was something _really_ wrong with him. No one kissed their brother; no one kissed their brother and got _hard_. And now, Dean would either hate him or tease him for the rest of his life. Or worse, tell their Father how messed up in the head Sam was. He fought back the tears he could feel burning behind his eyes and swore softly into his pillow.

After splashing some water on his face and calming himself down, Dean turned slowly and pulled open the bathroom door. He had heard the bedroom door slam and guilt tore through him. He was supposed to be the older brother, the wiser one, the more mature one. Doing something like... Dean sighed heavily and rested his hand on the door for a moment before turning the knob and pushing it open. "Sam?" He asked quietly, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him, eyes fixing on Sam's body on the bed.

Every muscle in Sam's body tightened. "Leave me alone," the pillow almost absorbed his words and he shifted closer to the wall. He was sick and messed up and ... yeah. That was it. He should just chuck himself off a bridge or something.

"Sam..." Dean tried again and crossed the room, dropping down onto the edge of the bed and reaching out to lay his hand on the small of Sam's back. "I'm sorry okay? I shouldn't have... done that. I know you were messing around and I took it too far. So I'm sorry," he withdrew his hand after a moment when heat coursed up his arm from the touch.

Sam turned his face to the wall so he could breathe without have to look at Dean. "Am I sick or somethin'?" He voice wasn't as steady as he would have liked but he was already deep in it so what difference could it make now. For once, Dean didn't sound like he was going to tease Sam within an inch of punching him.

Dean frowned and shifted closer to Sam, spreading out on the bed and rolling on his side to face his turned away body. "Sick? Why?" He laid a hand on top of Sam's shoulder and squeezed softly. "Because... you liked it?" He watched Sam pull in on himself and he sighed, shifting forward to say softly into the back of his neck. "Then I must be sick too. If that's what you think you are."

Sam swallowed and took a few deep breaths. His eyes trailed up the wood grain on the wall watching all the lines flow in and out of one another. He was trying really hard to make sense of what Dean was telling him. "You..." Sam shifted a little, shoulder rising up unconsciously as Dean's breath moved across his skin. "I don't get it..."

Sliding back, Dean shook his head and pushed up. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't even... I shouldn't push this. You're young and confused and I would be taking advant..." Dean huffed and looked away, reaching out and petting Sam's side for a moment before pulling away. "It's okay Sam. It won't happen again, I promise to leave you alone."

"I'm not young," Sam muttered, "I'm fourteen now." Sam rolled over not realizing how close Dean was and ended up inches away from him. "Push what? What would you be pushing?" Sam could feel Dean's breath on his lips and he licked them almost as though he expected to be able to taste the air.

Eyes fixing on Sam's mouth for a long moment, Dean's voice came out much deeper and laced with arousal as he thought about how Sam's lips seemed to burn against his. "Push... this. Us. The more than us?" He swallowed thickly and leaned forward to brush his lips against Sam's. "That."

Sam's chest tightened with the heat that shot down his body from the touch. "I ..." his lips pressed into a tight line. "I'm not... I'm not fucked up?" His heart felt like it was in his throat and his body jolted when the tips of his fingers accidentally brushed against the cotton of his brother's shirt.

Shaking his head and shifting his body forward, Dean whispered, "No. You're not fucked up," he hovered his lips centimetres from Sam’s, eyes blurring from trying to peer down at his brother's lips. "And don't use the f-word. Seriously, I'll have to wash your mouth out with... something," Dean chuckled and let his hand settle on Sam's hips. "You gonna kiss me again Sammy?"

"I... I should?" Sam's fingers straightened out, the tips grazing across the warmth of Dean's stomach under his shirt. "I've never kissed before." Sam blinked a few times and reached his arm out further to rub the backs of his fingers against Dean's abs. His brother had started working out a few months ago and his body was already different, so much different than Sam's.

"I'd say you did pretty good before," Dean said softly, body moving up into the gentle touch of Sam's fingers. "Think of it kind of like when we train. Counter act my actions you know? So when my tongue is in your mouth, give me room to explore, drawback, and then your tongue can come into my mouth," Dean chuckled and shook his head slightly. "Really, I have this feeling you'll get the hang of it pretty quickly. You're a quick learner." Dean slid his fingers under Sam's shirt, pressing down into the flesh and working small circles.

Sam's breath hitched in his chest and he reached out his hand to slide over Dean's hip. He could feel Dean's firm skin just under the denim and his fingers curled into him. Parting his lips Sam dipped his head down and brushed his lips against Dean's softly. His fingers curled tight over Dean's hip and he tilted his head to the side just enough to move his open mouth against his brothers and slip his tongue out shyly. Pulling back Sam licked his lips and peered at Dean from under his bangs. "Like that?"

"Like that," Dean agreed and slid forward to seal his lips over Sam's once more. There was something almost sinfully delicious about Sam's sheer level of innocence. It made him feel perverted and wrong but so _fucking_ good it was almost impossible to ignore. Moaning into the kiss he snaked his tongue swiftly into Sam's mouth, circling in slow swirls as he flattened his hand against Sam's flesh, bringing his fingers round to the front of his body and shoving up under his brother's shirt. Another moan fell into the kiss as his finger brushed along Sam's nipples, tweaking softly in time with his tongue's thrust forward and draw back.

Sam's body was thrumming under his brother's hand. No one had touched him like that before and it felt _so_ good; he could feel his dick swelling again, full and hot in his jeans. He waited until Dean's tongue pulled back and chased it with his own, moaning softly when he slipped into wet heat. His heart started to flutter in his chest, his hand slipped up along Dean's side as his mouth opened wider. He wanted _more_. The taste of his brother was familiar and different and hot all at the same time. Something in Sam's mind gave in, gave up and he shifted closer suddenly needing to be pressed up against Dean's body. Frantic hands moved over Dean's back, clawing, moving, nails scratching down the fabric of his brother's shirt. The kisses were wet and messy, hot and firm and Sam could barely breathe.

The way Sam was practically trying to crawl into his skin was driving Dean insane; literally, he was going to end up coming from the frantic rub of their hips together. It hit him suddenly that he didn't want their first time to be over quite so fast. Pulling back from the kiss with a gasp, Dean slid his fingers down and curled them into the hem of Sam's t-shirt, tugging up and over his head, tossing it to the side. "Tell me to stop and I will," Dean murmured as he dropped his head and began spreading kisses along Sam's neck, sliding to his collar bone and sucking roughly. Dean trailed his hand down, along Sam's waist band, fingers ghosting over the silky smooth flesh.

As his arms pulled out of his t-shirt Sam let them fall down over Dean’s shoulders drawing his brother's mouth closer, harder. "Dean..." it was almost a question but then Sam's thoughts were entirely focused on the heat of his brother's mouth as it moved along his shoulders, then, the touch along the sensitive skin of his stomach. His muscles rippled and drew away as he sucked in a harsh breath. Sam slid his palms down his brother's back bunching up the material of his shirt and tugging at it. His entire body shook; his hips were twisting forward, rutting desperately against Dean's thigh.

"Relax," Dean soothed, hand coming around Sam's waist to rest on the small of his back, gliding down over his ass and squeezing firmly. He pulled back for a moment and tugged his own shirt over his head, tossing it to the side. After a moment to gaze down at the wiry frame of his brother, Dean's lips quirked up in a smile before he fell forward once more, sliding their chests together to seal his lips over Sam's again. He let his leg fall between Sam's, rubbing his thigh into Sam's crotch as his tongue thrust forward into Sam's mouth.

Struggling to calm his breathing Sam's mouth moved against Dean's slowly at first, shyly. He loved the feel of Dean's lips, smoother, softer than he had expected. His older brother was all hard; muscle and strength but here, this, was softer and Sam knew how to respond almost on instinct. His mouth slanted, opening wide and drawing Dean's tongue deep inside. Moving his tongue over Dean's he moaned into the kiss, thrilling at the feel of his brother's gentle shudder when he heard the sound. His hands had settled on the warm skin of Dean's back, smooth, damp with sweat; gentle swells of muscle, he'd never _felt_ the way Dean's muscles rippled and rolled under his palms and it was hot. Everything was hot. Sam was pretty much stuck in the spot where his brother was suddenly about the sexiest thing he'd ever encountered. "Please... Dean," Sam didn't even know what he was asking for but his fingers tightened their grip on his brother's flesh, nails biting into the skin.

"I got you Sammy," Dean blew out a quick puff of air and slid along his brother's body once more. His lips worked along his chest, sucking at random patches of skin, drawing Sam's nipple into his mouth and grazing his teeth over the sensitive skin. Slipping his hand between them, he rubbed his palm down into the hard line of Sam's arousal, working the heat under his fingers in steady drags of pressure.

Sam's spine arched the instant Dean's hand moved over his swollen dick, his hips launching forwards toward his brother. Sam moved restless hands down over his brother's back to settle on Dean's ass, firm and muscular under his jeans. Heaving a long hard breath into his lungs Sam rocked his hips slower, trembling as heat welled in his belly. "Dean..." he murmured, "c..can't.." It was too much, the touch, the wet heat of his brother's mouth, blood was surging through his veins and Sam's hips jolted forward. One hand slipping just under his brother's jeans the other moving up to wrap over Dean's soft hair, Sam moaned as his hips rolled forward a handful of times; the muscles in his abs tightened, his balls squeezing tighter and he came. Sam's voice was tight, he cried out curling into Dean's body as his dick throbbed and pulsed and wave after wave of pleasure barrelled over him.

"Jesus," Dean grunted, rearing back to watch his brother come apart beneath him. His face was flushed red, slightly damp with sweat, outrageously gorgeous in its blissed state. "So sexy," he mumbled and smirked as he dipped down to brush kisses along Sam's lips. He never thought he'd consider his little, geeky, long limbed brother sexy but like this, he was exactly that. Rolling over to the side and dropping his hands down to work quickly at his button and fly. Shimming his pants off his hips, Dean let out a relieved stream of air as his fingers wrapped around his cock and dragged up in steady strokes, desperate for the relief.

Sucking his bottom lip into his mouth Sam trailed his eyes along his brother's jaw line, down his chest and to the line of his shaft. It was bigger than Sam's, fuller, longer, the skin dark red against Dean's pale belly. He watched his brother's hand move over himself, twisting, grasping, smooth movements. Shifting closer, tongue darting out to wet his lips, Sam's fingers slid up over the warm skin of his brother's hip, settling on the jut of bone, fingers stretching forward to brush the side of Dean's rigid flesh. Sam's eyes darted up to his brother's face as a small moan left Dean's lips; he was gorgeous, flushed skin under his freckles, eyes almost black half-lidded and glassy. Sam's free hand moved to brush across his brother's lips, full, red and wet.

After swallowing hard a few times Dean managed to get his vision to lose the blur as he stared into his brother's face, mouth parted slightly, tongue flicking out across his lips and over Sam's fingers. Dean continued to drag his fist over himself, gasping in quick moans as he alternated between squeezing his fingers and twisting his wrists Every time Sam's fingers just barely ghosted across his flesh little sparks of pleasure shot through him. "Sammy," he moaned softly, shifting forward to brush their lips together. "You can touch me, if you want too," he whispered into Sam's mouth.

Sam's palm slid across the downy skin below Dean's hip as his lips moved on his brother's mouth. Lapping at the side of Dean's mouth, Sam tasted his sweat and the sweet warmth of his mouth. His fingers moved to curled around the bottom of his brother's dick, squeezing gently his thumb sweeping up and down slowly.

With a low groan Dean thrust up into Sam's touch and turned to catch Sam's tongue in his mouth, sucking it into his mouth greedily. He let go of himself, giving Sam room to touch and explore and letting his hand come up to cup around Sam's neck. Dean could feel his orgasm, pulling at him, so close he knew it was only a matter of minutes. "God Sam," he gasped as he pulled his lips back. "So close, c'mon..." he groaned as he jerked his hips forward.

Sam moved his hand up his brother's hard-on, marvelling at the weight of it before he started to move his fingers quickly. He moved the way he liked it when he jerked off, slight pressure, towards the head sweeping his thumb over the slick head. He watched Dean's face, seeing the emotions change as they flitted across his face; Sam curled over Dean's body slightly, brushing his nose across Dean's cheek then sucking the skin just under his jaw. Drawing the skin up hard Sam could feel the blood warming his mouth as it marked Dean and Sam couldn't help smiling as he let go. Dean would kill him later. Dean let out a moan that drew Sam's attention like a whip crack and his eyes snapped down to his brother's dick watching Dean's hips rocked up into his own palm.

Dean could feel the pull and tug at his senses, balls tightening as his orgasm built up in him and shoved him over the edge. "Fuck Sam," he moaned loudly as his hips stuttered up into Sam's hand, shooting white hot jets of come onto his brother's hand, across his abs. His shoulder shook slightly as he worked through his release, another long moan falling from his lips before he collapsed back on the bed. "Damn," he blew out in a slow breath.

"You're..." Sam's jaw slammed shut before he said anything else. He didn't want Dean to make fun of him for thinking his brother was gorgeous ... but he was. Sam blinked a few times and took a deep breath letting his fingers slide up through his brother's come, he rubbed it across Dean's stomach then glanced up at his brother and slipped his fingers quickly into his mouth. It didn't taste like he expected, saltier, earthy. Cheeks flushing Sam sucked on his fingers and stared into Dean's eyes.

Eyelids fluttering, Dean's eyes fixed on the fingers in Sam's mouth and he groaned, "Fuck Sam that's just..." Shaking his head a few times, Dean chuckled before he rolled off the side of the bed and snatched at his shirt on the floor, using it to wipe himself off. After he was clean and tucked back into his jeans, he rolled back to face his brother. "This... are you okay?" Reaching out, Dean let his fingers slide along the curve of Sam's jaw, thumb dragging over his chin.

Wrinkling his nose Sam pressed his lips together and tugged at the front of his jeans, "feel kinda gross," he smiled shyly. Scooting forward Sam ducked his head down to suck Dean's bottom lip into his mouth and set about licking his way along it. His leg slid over top of Dean's and his hand moved over his brother's chest. "S'good," he murmured against Dean's lips.

"Yeah," Dean murmured, tilting up into the kiss with a small smile on his lips.

It wasn't like Sam had intended to start making out with Dean and it certainly wasn't like he'd expected to ever rub up against him and end up leaving the room with his boxers sticky and wet and his cheeks rosy underneath his tousled hair. But it had happened and in Sam's mind, seeing as the world hadn't ended it was okay. Dean was eighteen, he knew more and he certainly didn't seem to be freaking out. Sam couldn't wipe the grin off his face for the next few hours. It developed into a problem quickly. The thing was, Sam had to look at Dean all the time. They shared a bedroom, the trained together; they were usually sprawled over each other in the living room watching TV well into the night. Suddenly there was an undercurrent to everything they did; sexual tension, _want_. Where fingers brushed before, playful, teasing they now left goose flesh in their wake; pupils darkened, jeans tightened uncomfortably across hips. It didn't suck, Sam wouldn't change it - it was just _different._

If their father noticed anything different, he didn't say a word. John was gone hunting so much he rarely seemed to have much of an idea what his boys were up to. He knew that Dean was fully capable and would never let anything happen to his younger brother; therefore, he didn't worry. He might have noticed them falling asleep with their limbs tangled together, might have noticed the quiet whispers and murmurs through the bedroom wall but if he did he wrote it off to one more oddity of their family unit.

As much Dean enjoyed most sexual things, Sam was going through that puberty stage where _everything_ was about the idea of getting off. Sam had this tendency to capture Dean in little situations that he was mostly unprepared for, which threw Dean off his usual stability. Like the time almost a month after the _first_ time when Sam caught him coming out of the bathroom, pinned him up against the wall and dragged his body the full length of him. Dean's eyes had widened - their dad was just down the hall in his room - and then Sam was gone and throwing a smirk over his shoulder. Clearly Sam was learning from the master.

When John wasn't home Dean would let their lips drag together on the couch, kissing in the dark in only the glow of the TV. Sam was constantly pressing against him, rubbing for friction and release. Or shoving his hand down Dean's pants to work at his flesh. Any time Sam tried to crawl into his bed at night and push things further, Dean had to gently shove him back. There were some lines he just couldn't cross. Not while Sam was still just fourteen years old and so _innocent_. Dean already felt guilty as it was for taking things this far.

 _Three_ months of putting up with Sam constantly rubbing all over him was beginning to wear on him and at this point Dean could barely manage to finish making the macaroni and cheese on the stove. Sam was practically glued to his body, mouthing kisses along his neck, rocking his hips along his upper thigh and almost over his ass. "Sam, I swear I will tie you to the chair for the rest of the night if you don't _stop_ ," Dean detangled himself once more, placing his hands on Sam's shoulder and forcing him to take a step back. "Calm yourself."

"C'mon, Dean, I know that you like it," Sam walked around to the other side of his brother and slid forward, hand moving over the front of Dean's zipper. He fingers curled around the hard line in the front of his brother's jeans. "See?" he moaned softly licking the shell of Dean's ear and rolling his crotch against his brother's hip. "It's been a couple of days Dean ... we can eat dinner later." He nipped at his brother's ear lobe and sucked on it.

Dean groaned in frustration and flicked off the stove, growling low in his throat and tightening his hand on Sam's arm. Without a word he led him from the house, slamming the door behind him and shoving him toward the car. "Get in," he snapped, pressing his palm into his crotch to adjust the denim against the tight and uncomfortable heat.

Sam stumbled forward and grabbed the door handle, yanking the passenger door open. As he slid into the seat he looked over at his brother's stony face. "Dean?" He fidgeted not sure if this was a good thing or a decidedly bad thing. Dean's face was a mask and Sam had no idea what was on his mind.

Shoving the key roughly into the ignition, Dean only barely glanced at Sam as the engine roared to life. He slipped the car into drive and spun the tires as he pulled out of the driveway. He needed to clear his head, get them out of the confines of the house where something so secret and private could easily spiral out of control. He took random turns, heading for the outskirts of the town they were in.

Tugging at the front of his jeans Sam shifted a little on the leather seat. "Dean? Where are we going?" He looked out the wind shield watching the trees fly past the car. "You pissed at me?" Sam reached out to touch Dean's thigh softly, fingers barely resting across the denim.

Jerking the car off the side of the road, Dean guided them down a dirt path, car bouncing over rocks and potholes as they moved. Finally he spun the car into a secluded area in the middle of nowhere he'd found a few months ago on one of his random nightly drives. Turning the key and pulling it out of the ignition, he turned in his seat and fixed his eyes on Sam. "Get out."

Sam's head snapped to the side, "What?" He stared at his brother. "You... you're kiddin' me." His eyes moved over Dean's face looking for some kind of sign that Dean wasn't about to leave him in the middle of nowhere. "Right? Dean?" It wasn't like walking back from here would kill him of anything but, seriously.

"Sam," Dean narrowed his eyes, lips pursing. "Does it look like I'm kidding?"

Sam huffed, eyes widening. He opened his mouth to say something, shook his head and yanked on the door handle and pushed the door open. "You suck." He climbed out of the car and slammed the door walking a few steps away and giving Dean his back as he folded his arms right across his chest.

With a small smirk Dean pushed the door open, watching Sam's shoulders stiffen at the creak of the car door. Slamming it shut a minute later; Dean crossed silently to him and wrapped a hand around his arm. In one quick motion he spun Sam around to the car, pressing his back into the passenger door, hands tugging sharply at Sam's waist band and dragging him slightly up off the ground. "You're such a fuckin' tease Sam," he growled, sliding his lips over Sam's jaw line.

The protest died in Sam's mouth when he realized that Dean wasn't so much angry as ... turned on. Hands scrabbling at the car Sam let his head fall back against the warm metal as Dean's lips moved over his jaw, his neck, sucking and biting. "M'not," he murmured as one leg wrapped around Dean's, rubbing down the full length of his brother's jeans.

"Fuckin' are," Dean growled and slipped the button of Sam's jeans out of the fasten. Pulling the zipper down roughly he spun them around and dragged Sam around, shoving a hand roughly under Sam's boxers, sliding down. "Jesus Sammy," he needed them both to be horizontal right _now_. Reaching forward he tugged at the back door and practically dove into the back seat.

Sam stood there for a few moments, leaning against the roof of the car, panting, trying to catch his breath. Kneeling on the back seat Sam crawled up his brother's body, elbow banging into the back of the front seat. He swore softly under his breath and tugged at his brother's belt getting it undone as quickly as possible; Sam's fingers were clumsy, nervous, and it took him a bit longer to get the button and zipper undone. He tugged on the denim, fingers grabbing up the material of Dean's boxers and jeans as he pulled it all over his brother's hard-on, dragging the material down to Dean's hips. "Shit..." he whispered.

"You're tellin' me," Dean mumbled, shoving once more at Sam's jeans and boxers. It took a fair bit of negotiating, to get his leg spread out and Sam's pants down enough, but it was worth it when he could drag Sam down and crush their lips together, cocks sliding together in a flash of burning pleasure. Dean moaned loudly into the kiss, tightening his arms around Sam as his tongue thrust forward.

Sam slid an arm under his brother's neck gripping tightly, hips already rocking forward and back against Dean. The slick heat of his brother's dick was perfect; it set off something inside of Sam, something crazy. It was _so_ different, the way their cocks slid together, Sam being on top, controlling the pressure and able to watch Dean's face and the way he moaned. Sam's cock jumped, twitching full and thick against Dean's. He moaned out his brother's name and tried to hold himself up, give Dean some room to move - room to _thrust_ back up against him. Crashing his mouth into his brother's swollen lips Sam moaned again, louder, suddenly realizing he didn’t have to be quiet.

Rocking up as hard as he could, Dean's hands clung to Sam's back, pulling him to deepen their kiss. He pulled his legs up further, giving Sam as much room as possible. There was something intoxicating about the way Sam moaned, the way he moved over Dean so sure of himself while at the same time seemingly waiting for Dean's guidance. "So good Sam," Dean gasped as his head fell back onto the seat, body arching up into Sam's for more pressure.

Sam's body moved like a wave with each burst of pleasure from the way they ground together. Hips rocking against his brother, spine arching then curling toward Dean, shoulders thrown back as his head drifted to the side. Sam's eyes were locked on his brother's face when his mouth wasn't crushed against those crazy-full lips. He thrust, tentatively at first, sliding their cocks together watching Dean's eyes, feeling the way his brother's tongue thrust into Sam's mouth with each movement of their hips. Arms giving out, Sam fell heavily on Dean's chest, tugging his own shirt up, wanting more contact, more heated flesh against him. Pushing up ever-so-slightly with his knees Sam worked his hips into a rhythm, rolling his hips and lower back against his brother moaning with each slide and thrust. Finally, his eyes slipped closed.

"Want you too..." Dean breathed and rocked his hips up, rolling them along his flesh. He could feel his orgasm already building; pretty much constantly building any time Sam started his teasing actions. It was Dean's fault; he seemed to bring out Sam's teasing nature. "Come for me Sammy," he growled into Sam's ear, turning his head to suck Sam's ear lobe into his mouth, dragging his teeth along the flesh. "I'll come with you, then we can both taste our come mixed together," he blew a breath out along Sam's ear and pressed his fingers harder into Sam's back with another quick slide up.

Sam managed to moan out half his brother's name and a string of wordless sounds as Dean's words turned him inside out. His hips snapped forwards, fingers curling hard into the back of his brother's neck. His heart skittered around in his chest and Sam felt his orgasm shoot up through his body from his crotch. He felt it everywhere, his balls, his thighs; it rippled over his abs and up his chest. His rhythm faltered as he thrust twice more against his brother's heat, "gonna," he moaned. White heat shot through his body, and his come shot hard and fast, pulsing against his brother and sliding between them.

True to his words, Dean was coming right along with Sam, feeling the burn of his body, the way it stuttered and jerked against his. "Sammy," he moaned, body arching up off the car seat and into Sam as his release pulled through him, snapping his eyes shut. As he ebbed down from the sensations his hips fell down onto the seat once more, hand sliding between them once more to swipe at the pool of still warm come - his own and his brother's - gathering it onto his fingers and bringing it up to rest against Sam's lips. "Taste."

Sam reached up and curled his long fingers around his brother's wrist then sucked the fingers into his mouth. His tongue swirled around the digits, teeth grazing along the skin as he sucked the taste of them both deep into his mouth. His hips rolled once more against his brother's as the musky taste filled his mouth and he breathed in the scent of sex and sweat so strong in the car. Pulling back a little he let Dean's fingers pop out of his mouth and smiled as his hand snaked down between them, fingers running through the slick mess on his brother's belly. Pulling his hand back up he pressed two fingers against his brother's lips, thumb brushing the thick bottom lip, "now you..." Sam bit down hard on the side of his mouth. _Watching_.

Dean's lips quirked up in a smirk and he pulled the fingers into his mouth, sweeping his tongue along the flesh to taste their mixed juices. Moaning softly, he worked the musky taste off his brother's fingers, locking his eyes with Sam's. After a few minutes he pulled away, the fingers from his mouth and let his head drop back onto the leather seat, sighing. "You gotta stop drivin' me crazy like that Sammy."

Swallowing, Sam took a few moments to find his voice as he settled his head against his brother's chest; he listened to the dull, steady thud of Dean's heart. "'Cause.. this was my punishment?" His hand ran in circles over the smooth, sweat-damp skin of his brother's chest. He sighed, "I'll ... I'll try," his voice was quiet. All Sam could hear was the beating of Dean's heart and the rustle of the tall grass in the wind. "You're just so ... " he could feel himself starting to blush, "sexy..." he nuzzled against his brother's chest, inhaling the familiar scent of him. "And stuff..." he added sleepily.

"Well, there's no denying that," Dean nodded and chuckled, wrapping his arms tighter around Sam once more as he settled back in the seat. "We just have to be careful," he said softly and ran his hands up and down Sam's back slowly. "This is our secret you know?"

"Secret," Sam echoed. His eyes were heavy with sleep and his lips moved lazily against his brother's flesh. "Will be ... careful." Sam would never let anything come in between them; there was no reason to believe anything ever would. "Shhhh," Sam pressed his fingers to his brother's lips, "wanted me quiet and calm... am now." Smiling, Sam could feel himself drifting off peacefully.

Dean grinned for a few minutes, letting his eyes drift close and arms tighten around Sam's back.


	2. Chapter 2

There was never a time in Dean's life that he thought he'd be a relationship type of guy but things with Sam were on a level above that. For two years they gradually built up this thing between them in between school and work and hunting. Every spare moment was spent together, when their father was around and they could lay tangled in each other's arms, lips sliding together, bodies colliding in gentle rocks and sticky sweat slides. They learned each other on a level few seldom got to learn another person on. Dean knew all the things that could make Sam tick and Sam knew him likewise. They snuck around in shadows, barely resisting the urge to touch whenever their dad was around, settling for little things like their knees resting together under the table or their elbows bumping as they sat on the couch. Every moment Dean got to feel Sam coming apart at his hand only cemented the fact that they would only be at their best together.

The hardest times for Sam were at night. Just feet away from Dean's bed, Sam lay there in the dark, alone. It wasn't even always the lack of touch, the hard lines of Dean's body anymore. It was sometimes just the feeling of wanting to fall asleep near his brother. Dean stuck to his guns and made Sam return to him bed whenever he managed to wrangle his way in there. If their father was home, Dean would stop Sam before he even tried. If their father was gone, sometimes, they would rub and touch, bring each other off and then Dean would shove off gently from Sam and they would separate. It seemed like such a subjective line to Sam. Something in Dean's mind..but maybe there was more to it. Sam settled for the moments he did get; the hot hand jobs in the back seat of the car, driving each other nearly insane with touch in the darkened movie theater, and the rare times he fell asleep in Dean's arms on the couch late at night. It was a good life, Sam was happy.

Sam had been on edge all day at school. Dad was gone for the entire weekend on a hunt which meant he and Dean would have the house to themselves for three entire nights. He was pretty certain that Dean's logic for separating them each night would fall apart given the circumstances. Sam just wasn't used to not getting his way, Dean gave in to him on so many things but never sleeping together for the entire night. When the final bell went at school Sam strode home, a young man with a mission. Dean was working on the car when Sam got home. He saw the hood up, paint glinting in the sunlight from the bottom of the driveway.

"Dean," he called out as he jogged up the last of the path to the car. Sam loved it when Dean worked on the car, he wore his old ragged jeans and a white undershirt and by the time Sam got home from school there would be grease stains on his face and arms. It was pretty hot, but then, lately, Sam thought that almost everything Dean did was pretty hot. He wasn't disappointed when he rounded the front of the car. Leaning over quickly he kissed the small of Dean's back before he extracted himself from under the hood.

Turning toward him, Dean's lips quirked up in a smirk, "Hey Sammy, how was school?" He rubbed his fingers along the flesh that Sam's lips had touched, face pulling together slightly. Sometimes Sam threw him off guard in ways he just wasn't expecting, getting him so hard in just an instant it hurt to even stand straight.

"Was good," Sam tossed his backpack on the ground and leaned against the front fender. "Katie Miller asked me out." He grinned at Dean, watching for the flicker of jealously he _knew_ would spark in his brother's eyes even though they _both_ knew it wasn't even remotely close to being a reality.

Rubbing at his hands with a rag, Dean's lips thinned out into a tense line before he lifted his gaze. "Oh yeah? What did you say?" His eyes slid up the line of Sam's rapidly extending body, tracing the lines that had been steadily filling out as he grew into himself.

"Told her I was seein' someone already." He grabbed the hood and stretched forward knowing that his t-shirt would pull up revealing the slip of skin along his waistband. "Told her I had someone who drove me crazy," Sam wet his lips, "and said my Dad was gone all weekend and I had big plans." He pressed his crotch against the fender, careful not to scratch the paint with his button. "She wasn't very happy with me." His eyes were locked with Dean's

Dean couldn't resist the slight smirk as he shifted forward, hand coming out to ghost briefly along the exposed strip of skin. "Big plans huh? Gonna throw a party or something?" He laughed, knowing whenever he played naive it annoyed his brother more than anything else. "You could always invite her over, I'd just _love_ to meet her."

Sam's eyes narrowed, "maybe I will." He huffed and dropped his arms, "maybe I'll bring her over to watch movies and make out with her on the couch. Let you sit there with your beer and watch." Bending over slowly Sam picked up his back pack, "gonna go eat - you want anything? Build up your energy for later? You're not as young as you used to be." Sam threw a grin over his shoulder as he headed into the house.

"Asshole," Dean rolled his eyes and stepped away from the car, brushing past Sam and heading inside first. "I'm gonna take a shower, it's fuckin' hot," he tugged his undershirt up and over his head the moment they stepped inside, throwing it behind him at Sam as he walked towards the bathroom.

Sam picked up the shirt and moved down the hallway behind his brother. "I'll ... uh," he flipped the shirt over his shoulder so he could smell the slight scent of his brother's flesh, "just be lying in your bed naked while you're in there." He didn't smile, he just moved past Dean and closed their bedroom door behind him.

Staring at the door silently for a moment, Dean shook his head and stepped into the bathroom. He didn't know if Sam was joking but he kind of had this feeling he wasn't. The subject was a tense one, never ceasing to spark up a fight when Sam brought it up. Dean stepped quickly into the shower, scrubbing the grease and sweat from his skin as he turned over whether he would be finding Sam naked on his bed again and they'd once more have to discuss why they couldn't go all the way. Sam was too young for that type of thing. And really, that was the _last_ line they had left. Crossing that... it was like sealing a fate, and even though Dean was fairly certain he would never be so affected by anyone like Sam affected him, there was still some last little hope for Sam. Not to mention having sex would alter their senses and if their dad were to come home earlier... there were just too many risks.

Turning off the shower a few minutes later Dean scrubbed at his hair with a towel as he stepped out of the stall and looked at himself in the mirror. He was more than half hard, as if his body refused to listen to his reasons they couldn't have sex. Shaking his head he wrapped his towel low around his waist before crossing the hall to the bedroom. Dean listened quietly for a moment before turning the knob in his hand and pushing the door open. Dean's eyes fixed on his brother almost instantly and his lips quirked up, trailing up the broad expanse of his bare chest. "Sammy..." he breathed, shutting the door behind him out of habit alone.

"Yeah?" Sam was leaning up against the headboard of his brother's bed. "All done with your shower?" He patted the bed beside him. Usually he could at least get Dean to get into bed with him if he used all his best sad expressions. Sam smiled and licked his lips.

Considering him for a moment, Dean walking silently over to the bed and set down on the edge, flicking at the towel. He should have gotten up and put on boxers to be safe but Dean was occasionally stupid. "Are we going to have this talk again?" He sighed and scratched at the back of his neck.

Sam shifted forward, leg slipping out from under the covers to slip over his brother's thighs. He scooted up close to him. "It doesn't make sense, Dean." Sam mouthed his brother's neck, lapping up the beads of water. "Dad's gone ... we have the whole place to ourselves. I ... want it ... you want it." Sam ran his teeth along his brother's collar bone.

"Sam," Dean sighed, leaning into Sam's lips even as his mind reeled in protest. "You're too young. It's... not like with a girl. Sex together... that's a big fuckin' deal and we should wait. Until you're eighteen. If you still want it then, we'll talk," his eye lids fluttered slightly and he turned to the side, trying to motivate himself to slide away.

"What's different? You had sex when you were my age." Sam shifted closer, "just get in bed with me for a while, let's do that while Dad's gone," his lips moved over the shell of his brother's ear. "Please," he whispered, "just touching for a while, wanna feel you..." Sam's voice was thick as his hands slid along the edge of the towel loosening it from Dean's hips.

Pursing his lips, Dean could already feel the last of his restraints slipping. Sam had been arguing this point for months now and Dean was trying to hold on to his little wisps of reason. "I..." he swallowed hard a few times before sighing and shifting on the mattress, spreading out tugging Sam down with him. "Sam if we do this... that would be it. We'd cross that final line and there would be no turning back," he dragged his tongue across his lips, scanning his brother's expression.

"Why would I ever turn back?" Sam flipped the covers back and pulled his brother flush against him. It was the first time they'd been completely naked together and touching and Sam could feel his heart about to beat right out of his chest. "I won't ever want anyone else..." He pressed his lips to the corner of his brother's mouth sliding his tongue out gently.

"I won't either," Dean agreed and slid forward slightly brushing his lips along Sam's neck. "What if I hurt you?" He asked quietly, settling a hand low on Sam's hip bone and rubbing his thumb in gentle circles. "It... it will hurt. What if I do something wrong and completely fuck you up?" Dean couldn't help chuckling. "In a not good way."

"You won't," Sam buried his face in Dean's shoulder. "I've ... been, well, I ..." Sam bit down hard on his brother's neck, sucking the skin up into his mouth and rolling it between his teeth. His cock was already so hard it was aching and he slid his leg between Dean's bringing their hips together.

Dean gasped slightly and shifted up into Sam, head falling to the side. "You've been...?" He had a pretty good idea what Sam was going to say but he needed to hear because there was a pretty good chance those words were going to be the thing to seal the deal and destroy the last little holds he had on _no_.

Sam's voice was husky, his throat tight; he leaned down and kissed Dean's earlobe then whispered, "I like to think about you while I'm in the shower," he nipped the edge of his brother's ear, "I like to finger myself, leave myself open ..." he shivered at his own words and his tongue darted quickly in and out of Dean's ear. "I want you inside me ... please..." Pulling back he stared into Dean's eyes letting him see how turned on he was, how serious, how _ready_. He pulled in a deep breath and blew it out slowly then caught his brother's mouth with his.

Moaning into the kiss Dean rolled them over, falling into the space between Sam's legs. He pulled back from the kiss with a gasp and let his hand slip down between them. "How often?" He asked, reaching up under his pillow to grab the bottle of lube they occasionally used when Dean wanted to jerk Sam off hard and fast without hurting his flesh. Sam had suggested using it awhile ago and always made sure it was nearby, Dean couldn't help wondering if there was an alternative motive for that. Like this moment here when he flipped up the cap and smeared cool liquid over his fingers. "How often do you finger yourself?" He repeated as the tip of his finger found puckered flesh and circled slowly.

Sam sucked in a quick breath, "when... sometimes," Sam was already twisting against the mattress just from the touch of his brother's finger, "Dean... most times, in the shower," Sam spread his legs apart to give his brother more room. His hands slid over Dean's back and down his side, tugging gently at his hips.

"Mm," Dean hummed slightly and dipped down to suck at random patches of skin that he could reach. "Might have to watch that more often," he smirked slightly and shifted up once more to watch Sam's face as he slid his finger forward slowly.

Sam threw his head back, hips pushing down against his brother's finger. "Dean," his hands moved down his brother’s body to grab onto his ass. His eyelids fluttered closed and Sam sucked on his bottom lip as he arched up off the bed.

This was a whole new level of Sam coming apart at his hand. He pursed his lips as he felt the heat soar through him, zeroed in on his finger. "Jesus," he gasped, a little in shock at how very tight Sam was. Dean slid back further on the bed, wanting to see his finger buried in Sam's muscle. Catching his lip between his teeth, Dean worked his finger slowly in and out before pressing a second one forward, eyes shooting up to Sam's face. "Okay?"

Looking down at his brother, bleary eyed, and smiling Sam whispered, "fine... s'good Dean." He brushed his fingers over his brother's cheek then pushed up shakily on his elbows. It felt _so_ much better than Sam had thought it would. Completely different than his own fingers, better, more... Sam's breath sped up as he thought about what was to come.

Dean let all his attention narrow in on stretching Sam, working the tight heat with two fingers until they slipped and slid in and out without a problem. It took a little more maneuvering to get his third finger inside and he tried to push slowly, eyes locking on his brother's face as he pushed forward. Dean let his other hand come up to curl around Sam's cock, stroking the flesh slowly as he pushed his third finger all the way in. Continuing his squeezing strokes along Sam's hard cock, he waited until his brother's hips were moving restlessly down onto his fingers before slowly beginning to stretch the muscles. "Tell me when you think it's enough," Dean said softly, trying to judge the level of Sam's comfort from the lines on his face.

Moaning as his hips thrust up off the bed Sam looked up at his brother, "now, s'fine, enough," he fell back onto the bed, wriggling down, trying to get underneath his brother. It felt like his body was on fire. He was aching, his cock so hard and Dean's strokes just made it worse, he _wanted._

"Okay," Dean blew out a quick puff of air. "Okay," he repeated to steady himself and pulled his fingers free. He fell to Sam's side, snatching at the bottle of lube and squirting cool liquid into his palm and dragging it over his hard length. "Face the wall, back to me," Dean moaned softly, sliding further up the bed to better line himself up.

Sam shifted so he was pressed back against his brother's chest; lifting a long arm he threaded his fingers through his brother's hair glancing back over his shoulder as his hips circled impatiently. "Want you," he said.

"Want you," Dean echoed and grasped his flesh, shifting forward to get the best angle. He leaned forward to brush his lips along Sam's cheek, down his neck, blowing out a very low and heavy breath as the crown of his cock pressed against burning heat. "I'll go slow," he insisted as he broke the barrier and instantly got sucked in a few centimeters. "So tight," he murmured softly, panting sharply as he continued his gentle slide forward.

Sam's hand slapped against the wall, his palm flat and he moaned loudly. " _God_ ," Sam pushed back off the wall, taking more of his brother's cock in him. He knew Dean was holding back, could feel his brother's muscles shuddering against his back. "Gonna, touch myself..." Sam whispered, leaning his head back against his brother's shoulder. He ran his hand down his side over his ass, fingers brushing against Dean's hip then down to his own cock. He rain his fingers slowly up and down his shaft. His hips started rocking back and forth and his felt Dean slip further inside him. It burned ever-so-slightly but it faded quickly and Sam's body took Dean in like he was meant to be there.

Dean had _never_ felt something so tightly and he was fairly certain he never would. By the time he was all the way buried in Sam he thought it was a miracle he hadn't come yet. Sam's flesh burned over every inch it pressed into him, making his heart race so fast he was fairly certain Sam could feel it against his back. Once he got his hips into a steady drag back and slid forward, he curled his fingers into Sam's hipbone, tightening. Sam clenched around him every time he slid out, as if trying to keep him in and Dean moaned his brother's name long and hard, pace quickening as much as he could.

Sam braced his hands against the wall pushing himself back. Each time Dean pulled out was torture and each thrust back in was so hot Sam thought he would lose his mind. He could already feel his body coming apart. Each nerve was firing, every muscle fluttering, his body clenching around his brother's cock. He could feel their sweat mingling together, Dean's hand gripping his hip so hard it would be bruised. Sam had no words left, just moans and small sighs, almost silent keening sounds of _want_.

Loosing track of time and the world around them, Dean luxuriated in the feel of sliding into his brother and dragging back out. Sam was a bundle of nerves around him, constantly writhing and moving, the most deliciously beautiful noises were falling from his mouth. "Christ Sam... so good," he panted into Sam's neck, mouthing along the skin, sucking in flesh and working it under his lips. His hand slid under Sam's arm, curling around his waist to bring him down hard onto his cock in a quick thrust. At this pace he wasn't going to last long but now that they'd crossed this line, he could cross it again as much as he'd like. This thought spurred him into action again, quickening his thrust and urging him along.

Slipping his hand off his weeping cock, Sam twined his fingers with Dean's. "Love you..." Sam breathed letting his head fall to the side so the wet heat of Dean's mouth could move along his long neck. He pulled Dean's hand down wrapping both their hands around his cock and squeezing. His hands were shaking as his slid his fingers along his rigid flesh in time with his brother's forward thrusts. He wanted to feel Dean come inside him, fill him up; the simple thought sent little shocks of pleasure running through Sam's body and he could feel his orgasm swelling within him.

With a long moan Dean worked Sam's flesh beneath his hand and quickened his thrust, the movements taking on a jerky, stuttering motion as he reached his peak. "Love you too Sammy," he whispered and sank his teeth into the skin at the crook of Sam's neck. Once more it felt like Dean was losing all grips on time and the world, floating with Sam in this perfect world made just for them. "Come for me Sam," he gasped, losing his hold. "Wanna feel you clench around me."

Dean's voice was a low rumble against his brother's back. Sam's body trembled and twisted, the words going straight to his hips and sending them snapping forward. He bit down so hard on his bottom lip that the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth. It was a slow build, an unraveling of pleasure deep inside Sam's belly and when it flooded through his body he felt like everything slowed down to just those few seconds. So full, his muscles clenching around his brother's heat, his hips snapping forward hard into his hand and the almost-painful pulsing of his cock as he shot his release over his hand, his brother's hand. Sam's mouth opened in a soundless cry, head falling sideways onto the pillow, fingers tightening their hold on his Dean's.

Gasping at the sudden clench of muscles around him, Dean lost all holds on his control. He rolled Sam over in one quick motion, flattening him to the mattress and thrust deep and hard half a dozen times before he came, working his release out in a series of more shallow, quicker jerks. For a moment he was weak from his release and he collapsed down onto Sam's back before he realized he was probably squishing him. "Shit," he groaned and pulled out, flopping to the side and tugging Sam half onto his chest. "I didn't hurt you did I?" He asked softly, stroking a hand down Sam's back. "Sort of lost control there for a minute."

Sam could barely move, let alone think, his cock was still twitching weakly almost in time with the dull thudding of his heart. "Didn't hurt... liked it." Sam used what felt like the last of his energy to stretch up and kiss his brother long and hard, pushing his tongue past his brother's lips slowly so he could savor every last sensation.

They kissed until Dean's jaw ached and he pulled back, falling hard back onto the pillow. "Next time," he mumbled as his eyes fell closed, "we'll do it like that." Smiling sleepily he rubbed his hand soothingly down Sam's back and let sleep tug him under.

-=-=-=-

Now that they'd officially had sex, Sam was once more acting like he had when this whole thing started. He rubbed at Dean almost constantly, prompting him to take him in various places all over the house. Dean had arranged to have the weekend off with Sam - since John was out of town - and they spent the good majority of their time locked together. After that first time Dean was quickly losing his holds on being gentle and the rougher he got, the more Sam seemed to enjoy it. The days seemed to blur together, throwing off their sleeping patterns but Dean didn't really care.

Whether because they lost track of time, or because it was so very easy to be swept up in Sam, neither noticed the sound of John's truck pulling up out front. Which is how their father walked into the house to find them on the couch, lips locked. Luckily they were both mostly dressed, but Sam was straddling Dean's hips in nothing but his boxers, his arousal clearly evident, and Dean was only in sweats so his was pretty obvious too, even if it virtually disappeared the minute his dad's voice boomed through the living room and he shoved Sam quickly to the side.

"Dad I..." Dean looked around him in panic, eyes wide as he stared at Sam then turned back to the beat red face of his father. He knew, without anything being said, that he was in a whole shit load of trouble. He just hoped his dad could remain level headed enough to not do anything too stupid. Like pull out a gun or something Dean wouldn't survive.

"Shut the _fuck_ up, Dean." John strode across the room and back-handed Sam across his cheek so hard his youngest son fell to the floor like a ton of bricks. "You, go to your room before I do something I'll regret." John was disgusted, angry, ashamed and had no idea what to do with his sons, his _sons_ , all over each other. The image of his boys tangled together flashed in his mind, "Sam - get the _fuck_ up and go to your room. Now." John hissed that last word.

Sam was still reeling from his father's slap, tasting the blood of his split lip. He pushed up off the floor gazing over, eyes searching for Dean. He held out his hand to his brother, feeling the tears start to well up in his eyes.

"Don't you fucking hit him!" Dean yelled though it was too late, sliding in front of his brother protectively. He wanted to gather Sam close and check his face for any blood, get him eyes and kiss it all better but he knew he couldn't now. If he survived this he would later. "You fucking do that again and I will _kill_ you," he hissed, shoulders tensing. He wished he was wearing more clothing so the situation wouldn't feel so uncomfortable. More then it already was.

John's lips were pressed so tight together they were almost bloodless. "Sam I am giving you ten seconds to get down that hallway. You get your ass out of his room now boy... GO!" More than anything John was hurt. There had been no way he could have known something like this was going on; he'd raised Dean well, he hadn't raised him to do ... _this_ with his brother. God only knew what else...

Sam's tears were flowing steadily now, he'd never seen the look of hatred on his father's face before. Never. His fingers reached out and brushed Dean's back lightly. It was all he dared to do with his father standing there. Reaching up to his swollen lip he wiped the blood off with the back of his hand. "It was me, Dad, I started it. Dean would never have.."

"Sam I don't wanna hear it - I'm just gonna talk to Dean, go to your room." John's clenched fists were shaking and he took a step closer to his sons.

Stepping back into Sam as a sort of safety barrier between John and his brother, Dean held up one finger to the man, jaws clenched. When it looked like John wasn't going to move, Dean turned to face Sam head on, voice low as his hand came up to touch Sam's lip softly and wince. "Sam, please go to your room. I'll be okay," he whispered and locked his eyes on Sam's. "No matter what happens, I'll find you. Just stay in your room until this is over alright?" He pleaded with Sam, wishing he could brush their lips together like he so desperately wanted too.

Sam's shaking fingers reaching out for his brother's hand. "Dean..." he whispered. He didn't want to leave his brother. There was no telling what was going to happen; Sam was terrified.

"I love you," Dean whispered, so soft he wasn't even sure if his brother could hear him, but the man was probably reading his lips enough to get it. "Please go, it's for the best," he insisted and squeezed Sam's hand before pushing him gently toward the back room.

Sam padded slowly down the hall, turning for a last glance at his brother before going in to his room.

As soon as the door shut behind Sam John cocked his gun; the sound of metal on metal was remarkably loud in the room. John's hand was steady even if his mind was racing. All that kept running through John's mind was the image of Sam on Dean's hips, he held the gun level with Dean's chest and waited for him to turn around.

Staring at the hallway, Dean was trained well enough to recognize that sound anywhere. His heart stuttered to a halt and he wondered if the last image he was ever going to see was his brother's back. Even now all he could think was _what would happen to Sammy?_ Turning slowly, Dean didn't drop his eyes, didn't back down of plead. He instead clenched his jaw and locked eyes with his dad. "Gonna shoot me dad?" He asked steadily, surprisingly calm for the intensity of the moment.

"Dean, you're gonna go into that bedroom and pack what you want to take, get your wallet, your knife, whatever you need. You're going to tell Sam - tell _your brother_ ," John's lip curled as he hissed the words, "that you're leaving. That what you did was wrong. Then you're gonna walk out that door and I don't ever want you contacting him again." John's eyes were stony and cold. He felt betrayed on every level by his oldest. Dean, he'd put everything in Dean, his trust, his love, left him taking care of Sam. _Sammy_.

Dean's composer wavered and he swallowed thickly. He couldn't imagine saying those words to Sam, bile churned in his stomach even _thinking_ about them. "What will you do to him? He was lying before when he said... it was all me. It's all my fault. You can't hurt him," Dean's fist clenched and his eyes shot to the gun then to his dad's stance, trying to consider if he might be able to knock his father out before he could take a shot.

John was well aware of every thought his son had, he'd trained Dean well. "Don't even think about it, you think I won't shoot you after what you did? You got for the gun I'll shoot you in the leg and call the cops. I can stay here long enough with Sam to make sure you go to jail. You want your brother to live with the guilt of that for the rest of his life?" John took a deep breath steadying his voice. "Now, be smart, this is sick. Are you really gonna stand there and tell me that you touching him like that is _okay_?"

"I love him," Dean said without hesitation, stomach churning unpleasantly. "I don't care what you think on the subject and I'll get my shit and go but I'm not moving until you promise me that Sam is going to be okay. Because you know I'll be watching and if you do _anything_ to hurt him I'll kill you while you sleep." His lips thinned out and his body began to shake but he held his ground.

A cold realization started to wash over John. " _God_ ... you've..the full extent of their relationship was starting to dawn on John." Bile rose in his throat. His sons..."You listen to me you sick son-of-a-bitch. You are _not_ in a position to be demanding anything of me. Hurt him? You've been..." John almost gagged, "fucking your brother and you're going to accuse me of hurting him? He's sixteen years old." He could feel his blood pressure going up, blood moving like sludge through his veins.

Dropping his gaze for the first time, Dean looked to the side, voice shaking despite his attempts to keep it calm. "Please Dad. Just tell me he's going to be okay," he whispered, tears pricking at his eyes at the idea of not seeing Sam for who knows how long. Probably not until he was eighteen. _Two years_. "Please."

"He's going to be fine, why do you think I'm sending _you_ away. Sam's a kid Dean - I can't even believe you managed to justify this to yourself. You get your ass in there and you pack your stuff and you tell that kid in there... you tell my _son_ that you were wrong - that you're leaving, that you won't be back." John shoved the gun in his pocket keeping it pointed at Dean. "Go before I change my mind."

Dean knew that Sam wasn't going to be okay. He was going to be devastated, crushed. And even though Dean thought he should have been worrying about himself, what he was going to do next to make sure he survived, all he could be worried about was Sam. Turning slowly, numb with the grief already consuming him, Dean forced his steps forward, one after the other. He stared at the door for a minute before turning the knob under his palm, continuing his progress forward into the room and straight to the closet to pick up his duffel bag.

Sam pushed up off the bed, looking up at the door at his father. "Dean?" He took a step toward his brother.

"Sam, stay where you are." John's voice was firm.

Sam's eyes flicked from his father to Dean. "Dean? What... where are you going?" Sam started to shake. Dean couldn't leave, his father wouldn't do that to them. Dean had looked after Sam his entire life.

Dean's shoulders tensed as he silently changed, not caring what his father thought as he pushed off his sweats, pulled on boxers and jeans. He couldn't break Sam's heart in just sweat pants. Once he was fully dressed, sock and boots on, he tugged hard at his duffel bag, stuffing things blindly in. "Sam," he whispered when John cleared his throat. Lifting his gaze to his brother's, he tried to speak through his eyes while the words left his lips. "I'm leaving." _I'll come back for you._ "What we did was wrong." _I love you._ Dean dropped his gaze and zipped up the duffel bag, heart aching so bad his chest felt like it was moments from exploding.

Tears were welling up again in Sam's eyes and he started shaking his head. "No... no...Dad?" Sam looked over at his father pleading with his eyes. "Don't ... don't let him go. It was my fault," Sam pushed up off the bed and stepped over to grab Dean's arm, "don't leave me. I can change - I won't... I can't..." Sam sobbed and clung to Dean's shirt with shaking hands.

John stiffened, his fingers curling tighter around the gun. "Dean." He needed Dean out of there before Sam was completely out of control.

"I'm sorry," Dean whispered as quietly as he could before pulling away, forcing himself to the dresser to gather his wallet and the stack of money he'd been saving from work, stuffed in the top drawer. He couldn't look at Sam as he dragged his legs forward in steady steps, not stoping until he reached the threshold of the room, lifting his eyes to his father's. "Fuck you," he spat, low and deep.

Sam sprang up off the bed. "Dean, no. Wait for me." Sam yanked on his duffel bag so hard that he fell over trying to get it out from under the bed.

John moved quickly stepping out into the hallway behind Dean and jamming the gun into his back. "Dean," he whispered, "you get your ass back in that room and you tell Sam what you have to tell him to get him to stay or I'm turning you in for fuckin' your little brother." He motioned toward the door. "You tell him to stay here, you tell him you're leaving and you make him believe that you don't want to see him again or you'll be spending the next fifteen years in jail. How you think that'll work out for the two of you?"

Shoulders stiffening once more, Dean considered just letting his dad do it, turn him into the cops. It would be better than making Sam believe something that wasn't true, for saying words that burned his tongue. Fifteen years of jail would suck but maybe Sam would get away and for sure be safe. "Sam," he forced his mouth to move and turned, staring at his dad for a hard moment before stepping back into the room to meet his brother's eyes. "I don't want you to come with me," he deadpanned and his knees felt weak. "You have to stay here. I can't..." he glanced sharply behind him before fixing his gaze on Sam once more. "This is wrong. I'm sick. This is sick. I'm going and it's over. You stay here where you belong." He turned his back on Sam before his brother could see the tears streaming down his cheeks, his dad still blocked the doorway and he stared at him, pleading with his eyes for him to just get the fuck out of the way so he didn't have to hear Sam's reaction.

Sam felt like all the air had been sucked out of his world. His mouth was opening and closing, his hands fell limp at his sides. He dropped his duffel and called out after his brother, "Dean!"

John stepped across the door. "You leave your brother alone, Sam. He's decided to do what's right." John leaned out the door and stared at Dean's trembling shoulders. "Dean, you get out of here now. You can't use my son then leave him like he's nothing. Get out."

Blind with tears Sam stumbled toward the door and John caught him in his arms. "Better he leave now, Sam." John smoothed his youngest's hair, "he would have done it sooner or later. You know that." He glared over the top of Sam's head cradling his son's neck.

Dean barely made it outside and down the driveway before he collapsed to the ground and threw up the meager contents of his stomach. His body shook, pain flaring through him as Sam's words and cries echoed through his mind. He had no idea where he was going to go, or how he was going to keep surviving without his brother, but he knew he wouldn't let them far out of sight. It would be hard to sneak around without John noticing his presence, he'd half to work hard on it, but he wasn't going to lose Sam. He'd figure out a way. Eventually Dean pushed himself up off the gravel and stumbled down the street with shaky legs.

John knew that he had very little time to take care of things and Sam was going to be a problem. He settled Sam on the bed, leaving him sobbing quietly and moved down the hallway to the front door, locked it and opened a small pouch in the side of his duffel. When he moved into the kitchen he was already opening a bottle of strong painkillers. Snatching a glass off the counter John crushed a few of the pills and then brushed them off the counter into the glass. Pulling the fridge door open he grabbed a can of coke, opened it and poured it into the glass. Moving quickly back up the hallway he returned to Sam's room to find his son right where he had left him.

"Sammy?" John dropped to a knee by his son and offered him the glass. "You need to drink some sugar son, you're in shock." He put the glass in Sam's hands.

Sam held the glass with both hands, staring down at the bubbles traveling up through the dark liquid. He brought the glass up to his lips and drank half of it. "Dad?" Sam raised one hand to wipe at his eyes and try to focus. "Will Dean come back?"

John shook his head and nudged the glass toward Sam, "drink up Sammy. Dean's not coming back he was pretty clear about that." John watched as Sam drank the rest of the coke then took the glass from his son and put it on the night stand. John pushed up from his knee and moved about the room packing Sam's clothes and books. "Put this on Sammy," he tossed a sweatshirt at Sam and glanced back occasionally to see if Sam was getting into it. His sons movements were already slowing down. "Stay here Sam."

John grabbed Sam's wallet and threw it in his duffel, zipped it up and threw Sam's jacket over the top. Slinging the bag over his shoulder he moved down the hallway and picked up his bag again, unlocked the door and loaded them into the car. He was back at Sam's side in less than ten minutes and helping to pull Sam's boots on. His sons eyes were already closing. John lifted Sam, got him up on his feet and walked him down the hall then pushing him gently him into the back seat of the car. Settling Sam with a blanket over him John locked the door and walked around to slide into the driver seat. He needed to stop for coffee. They had a lot of miles to cover before he would even consider stopping. The engine roared to life and he pulled away from the curb slowly.

Dean hadn't wanted to go to far from the house, just to be safe, and it turned out his hunch was right. It didn't stop him from jumping up though in panic as the familiar roar of the engine, _his car_ , headed his way. He would have jumped out in front of the car if he knew without a doubt that his dad wouldn't just run him over. "No!" He screamed as the car sped past him and he caught just the slightest glimpse of what could have been Sam, what probably was. Dean took off down the road after the car, screaming, tears burning down his cheeks but his dad didn't let up and he fell back into the shadows.

Collapsing down hard onto asphalt, a sob tore from his chest as headlights disappeared around a corner up ahead. Now Dean was stuck in this city with no vehicle, no way of knowing where John was taking the only person he'd ever loved. Would ever love. For the first time in his life Dean was alone, he had no one, and his heart ached so bad his body shook.

Dean stayed crumbled in the middle of the road until the sun began to rise. Soft hiccups were the only noises falling from him, no tears left. Eventually he managed to push himself up, stumbling back down several miles of road until he found his duffel bag. Tossing it over his shoulder, he walked the rest of the way back to the house. _Their_ house and picked the lock.

It was like a ghost house, like the memory of Sam and he together had soaked into the walls and surged forth now to cover him. A fresh round of tears streamed down his cheeks as he walked through the house, trailing his fingers along the counter he spread Sam over just that morning, over the couch where everything changed, and then he stopped inside the bedroom. Sam's blankets were still ruffled, as were Dean's but it was in Sam's bed that he fell, burying himself in the sheets and pulling comfort in from the familiar smell still lingering on the sheets.


	3. Chapter 3

It took weeks for Dean to summon up the strength to leave the house. By then all lingering scents of his brother were gone, even from the t-shirt that he'd found stuffed under the bed when - in a fit of rage - he turned the entire bed frame upside down. Dean went through varying stages of anger and upset. Sometimes he was so miserable he could hardly drag himself through the house. Other times he was so angry he punched holes in the walls, broke his hand in the process, the pain tied him down though.

By the time he did leave the house was so badly destroyed John would never be able to use that fake name to rent a place again. It was a small and very bitter victory. Dean's brain kicked a little more into gear once he left the haunted house - figuratively of course - he could see things from a different view point. Dean stared at the truck in the driveway for awhile, considering breaking in and jumping the vehicle. But all he could think about was years of memories, of his dad buying the truck once Dean was old enough to drive just so Dean could take the Impala.

Walking away from the house and the truck was easier then he thought it should have been. But he told himself he was walking toward Sam. As it turned out, that was much easier said than done. Everything Dean had learned about hunting, he learned from his father. Which ultimately meant his father was better and Dean was always going to be ten steps behind. Dean didn't have nearly the amount of contacts that John did, nor did he have the resources.

Dean had a fair amount of money saved up but not nearly enough for everything he wanted to do to try and track down Sam. So at some point he had to admit defeat and get himself a job. For whatever the reason he settled himself into a town in the middle of Louisiana and worked. Any down time he had he spent searching for his brother electronically. Or searching for his dad. The man seemed to have the wisdom to get all knew fake names, none that Dean could guess. Search after search turned up nothing.

For awhile Dean considered hunting again but the first time he tried he nearly got himself killed, too trapped down memory lane, thinking of the time he and Sam had taken care of a body in a salt and burn and how proud John had been after the fact, awarding them with ice cream from Diary Queen. Sam had been so happy. It stung his heart and Dean decided he wasn't meant for this hunter life any more. The only thing he'd hunt now was his brother, but not to kill, to explain to him that it had all been a life, something he was forced to say at gun point.

Dean hadn't really acknowledged the time passing, and might not have even noticed if it wasn't for someone making a comment about the date. May second. Sam's birthday. He couldn't believe he's almost forgotten. Or maybe he had just been pretending he didn't notice.

This was how Dean began to live his life. All the way to Sam's eighteenth birthday he stayed in Louisiana, constantly searching for signs, hacking into computer databases in state after state for _anything_. When Sam turned eighteen Dean had this flicker of hope that his brother might try to find him. Surely his life couldn't have been that great over the past two years - it probably was like hell - and maybe Sam would search him out.

Mechanic work passed the time but Dean was started to get bored. By the time Sam turned nineteen Dean reached the conclusion that he was likely to lose his mind if he continued working on cars and trying to make friendly conversation with men he had nothing in common with. This is how Dean decided to use his hunting training for something other than hunting. If there was one thing Dean knew really well, outside his brother and the constant pursuit for him, it was mythical beings.

Because of the years - _fucking years_ \- pouring through computer information in search, Dean had gained quite a number of useful skills. For instance how to make himself a completely new and unique identity. He kept his name as Dean but changed the last to Smith. Something commonplace and normal, something that wouldn't draw attention to himself. One fake diploma later and he was set.

The job was one in desperate need to be filled, since the current teacher was beginning to show the wear from the more then a dozen classes she was attempting to teach. The dean looked thrilled with Dean's supposed _experience_ and, since it was just a local university, he was satisfied with one quick reference check. Dean had a pretty decent accent when he wanted to fool someone.

By the time Sam turned twenty Dean had really settled into his life as a teacher. It filled that time when he wasn't looking for Sam nicely. None of the students looked at him with judging eyes, he didn't have to attempt to be someone else because he was a teacher and they weren't supposed to know personal things about him. Plus, working in a college meant he rarely if ever had to deal with co workers. Occasionally at a staff meeting but otherwise he was free to simply be him.

Sam's twenty second and twenty third birthday passed mostly without event. Dean continued to teach, gaining some sort of reputation among the students so his classes were mostly always full. Every other moment was spent hunched over the computer, or making phone calls, or doing _anything_ that might turn up one little shred of a clue. By this point, he would have given anything just to even know his brother was alive. But there was nothing. Not a scrap and sometimes Dean wondered how he kept going, why he didn't give up.

Then - inevitably - his hand would settle on the amulet around his neck that he never took off, or the worn thin shirt he'd still saved from all those years ago tucked in his bottom drawer and he'd remember. Sam was it for him, would always be. Even on the handful of times he _tried_ to have a random hook up with someone, he ended up sending them away before anything even happened. He couldn't even remember the taste of his brother but late at night he pretended he could, when he dreamed of them together like he did so often.

Around Sam's twenty fourth year Dean took up jogging. It seemed like a random thing to do but it made Dean feel a little more alive. Plus it meant one extra hour he didn't spend hunched in front of his computer so there was the possibility his eyes burned less. Plus, Dean was beginning to feel his age. He was closer to thirty then he liked to fathom and sometimes he had moments where he could hardly believe how many years had passed since the last time he felt genuinely happy and loved.

During Sam's twenty fifth year Dean took on a bigger work load. He wasn't the best at school when he was in it but that had less to do with his brain and more to do with the world he was living in. The teacher who had previously taught his mythology class officially resigned. Dean couldn't do the English stuff but he didn't mind taking on some of the folklore and fantasy, and even a creative writing class just to shake things up. It made him feel a little more like he had purpose, like maybe - even though he'd failed in finding his brother for so long - he wasn't completely useless.

Everything changed the year Sam was twenty six, the year Dean was thirty, ten _fucking_ years after his heart was ripped out of his chest and run over by the fucking Impala in the middle of the road. It was an average day, the fourth Tuesday in the new semester, and Dean had started off his day with his usual jog. He'd taught his class at nine, picked up a cup of coffee at the Java Joint after, taught his class at eleven and was back in his office for lunch at one.

Which was where he was when the knock at his door echoed through the office. It wasn't his office hours but Dean wasn't one of those professors with a stick up his ass about office hours. He held the student's paper in front of his face, glancing up at the door and calling, "Come in," before dropping his eyes again to scan the paper on the myth surrounding creatures like Big Foots and Yetis.

Sam pushed the door open and poked his head around the door and noticed the man behind the desk had his head down over his paper. "Pro...fessor? Am I interrupting something?" He stepped into the room looking around. There was the strangest collection of drawings, statues, and what looked like archaeological artifacts. "I'm Sam Winchester, I was given your name as a possible consultant."

For a moment it was a little like his world had been flipped completely upside down, shoved off its axis so swiftly he nearly tipped back and out of his chair. Overcompensating for his tilt back, Dean flipped up, instantly standing, hand slamming down onto the table as his eyes fixed on the man at the door. And _fuck_ was he a man. Tall, a good five inches taller than him, broad chest barely defined under his plaid button down. Hair long, hanging down around his shoulders, tucked behind his ears. It was all too much to take in and very much not enough. "S-Sam," he stuttered on the name, stepping back in shock, eyes wide and fluttering in time with the race of his heart in his chest.

Sam was perhaps given the grace of about five seconds before he realized who was standing in front of him. He stepped back, a hand moving up to his mouth then settling across his chin. Dean hadn't changed all that much. He was older, of course, but wore the years well. He was firmer, more muscular than when Sam had last seen him. His hair was longer, a little darker, softer against his face. The green eyes he would have recognized anywhere. "I ... I didn't know it was you..." Sam took another step back toward the door. Ten years and not a word; Sam didn't have anything to say anymore.

"You're not..." Dean shook his head, tugging at his tie to try and relieve some of the pressure around his neck. "This is a dream. God I've had this dream so many times. I'm asleep. You're not real," despite his words Dean walked around the desk, toward his brother, hand extending for a moment before dropping. As his eyes locked with the man's he could practically _feel_ the cold edge to them.

Sam stared at Dean for a few more moments then looked down and pulled his car keys out. "I'll find someone else to help me." He turned and pulled Dean's office door open and strode out into the hallway feeling his stomach flip and clench with each step.

"Wait," Dean called, running out of the room and easily catching up with Sam. This time he closed the distance, curling his hand around Sam's arm and pulling him to a stop. "You can't just _leave_!" He said the words a little louder then he should and looked around, dropping his gaze before stepping closer and lowering his voice. "Sam please, it's been ten years. Don't just leave without talking to me." Dean was fairly certain he would have dropped to his knees and vice gripped Sam's legs if he had to. The idea of letting him go again was an impossible one to fathom.

"Can't just leave?" Sam's eyes hardened as he stared down at his brother. "Like you did? Get your hand off me." Sam's teeth were clenched, a muscle twitching in his jaw. "I have nothing to say to you." Sam yanked his arm out of Dean's grip and started walking. He just wanted to get to his car and get as far away from this place as he could.

Dean's heart stung from the words as if Sam had shoved his hand into his chest and physically squeezed the life out of him. But he followed, not yet willing to let him go. "Sam, I had no choice but to leave. There was a fucking gun to my back and it was either go or get a bullet in my leg and at least fifteen years in prison," he tried to keep the words low as they exited the building and Dean continued to follow his brother toward the parking lot. "God Sam, at least hear me out. After all this time do you really think that's what I..." he swallowed thickly and shook his head.

Sam whirled on the other man. "You think Dad hasn't told me everything? You think I don't know about the times he called you, left messages, told you where we were? He told me you threatened him on the phone Dean. He said you would tell me that he made you leave because you knew how important Dad and I were to each other. He's told me everything." Sam jabbed a finger at the center of Dean's chest, "you ... _used_ me and you left. Ten years I've been doing just fine without you. That's not gonna change now."

Reeling back in disbelieve, Dean jerked his head from one side to the other, head actually dizzy from the shock. "That lying piece of mother fucking _shit_ ," he spat and stepped back from Sam, clenching his jaw. "I can't believe you fucking believe him after the way he treated you that night. And to think I've spent the past ten years of my life searching for you every spare moment I had, not _ever_ touching anyone else because I'm still so fucking in love with you and you believed _him_." Dean blew out an angry breath. "Did the cell phone numbers change Sam? Did you happen to notice that he used different fake IDs then he used to? I spent my whole life loving you, doing everything _for you_ and you believed that _asshole_ who had to make me go by-" Dean cut off abruptly, sucking in a shaky breath and turning to the side, wiping angrily at the tears that had spilled from his eyes.

Taking a short step back Sam blinked a few times then ran a hand through his hair. He had loved Dean and then spent ten years learning to live without him. Their Dad ... he'd been everything Sam had. "You... you didn't come back." Sam turned and pushed the door open, jogging down the front stairs of the building and then breaking into a flat out run until he got to the car.

Dean bolted after him without hesitation, suddenly surprisingly grateful for his morning jogs. He came to a quick halt in the parking lot as his eyes settled on the familiar Impala, distant like a dream. To say today officially turned his world upside down was an understatement. Pursing his lips together he walked slowly to the driver's side and knelt, peering through the glass at his brother's profile. "I never could find you," Dean said loud enough for him to hear, reaching out to lay a hand on the warm metal. "I never stopped looking Sam."

Leaning down Sam grabbed the small handle and rolled the window down. Dragging his hand down his face, Sam kept his eyes forward. "I'm not the same innocent kid you left there." There was nothing the same about Sam. That sixteen year old, with all his dreams and trust was long gone.

"I'm not the same snarky twenty year old who teased you all the time," Dean said softly, clinging to the little burst of hope. "Please Sam. At least... get coffee with me. Or have dinner. _Something_. I've been waiting so long and I just..." he eyes flicked across Sam's profile, looking for any traces that he might feel anything for Dean any more. It didn't seem like it. "I miss you. So much. Please?" He curled his hand around the door, looking down when his eyes watered.

Sam reached in his pocket and pulled out his phone. "Give me your phone number. I'll call you before I leave town." He wasn't sure if he had any intention of calling Dean but he had to do something so he could get away and think. Call Dad.

Dean recited his number and reached into his pocket, curling his fingers around his phone. "I don't suppose I can get yours?" He asked, voice hopeful and only slightly shaking.

"I'll call you." Sam reached down and started the engine, feeling a little relief when it roared to life. He glanced out the window, catching his brother's eyes. "I'm here for a few more days. I'll be in touch." He waited for Dean to move.

Pushing up from the car and stepping back, Dean's heart sank. After so many years he'd never thought that Sam would actually have thrown away all the feelings they'd shared just because their dad - who had smacked Sam so heard he _bled_ \- told him some lies. Now he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd probably never hear from his brother again. He turned and walked away before he could watch the car back away, letting his head fall down. He'd seen that Impala disappear enough times to last him forever. Ten years of searching and it turned out his brother never even wanted to be found. Dean suddenly had absolutely no idea what to do with himself now.

-=-=-=-

When Dean got home from the campus his mind was still fuzzy and blurring around the edges. On any other day he would walk straight for the computer and see if whatever search he'd started that morning had turned up anything. This time he knows it won't matter. Still, he sets his bags on the chair by the table, grabs a beer from the fridge, and falls heavy into the computer chair. As expected, the box on the screen is flashing a simple _No Search Results Found_ and Dean stared at it for awhile, considering the implications.

Even though it didn't matter now, Dean took a snapshot of the screen and sent it to the printer. It was his habit, taking the page and writing the date at the bottom, along with the city and state. He filed it away in the box he always used, filled to the brim with documents all without any shred of useful information. The part of Dean that was in more angry then he could handle was tempted to throw the box in the dumpster. But Dean couldn't do that, it would be like throwing away ten years of hope.

Instead he slid up to the computer and searched his town. Obviously whatever ID Sam was using wasn't one Dean was familiar with. He checked the motels in the town that Sam was likely to be staying at and there was a real possibility Sam was one of those people checked in but Dean knew that calling him wasn't going to help matters. The only thing he had left to do now was wait. Sit back and pray that Sam called.

Work the next day was awful. Dean was distracted in a bad way. Even his students noticed and he ended all his classes early and canceled the last one. He told himself if he could just finish the weak then he would have the whole weekend to try and make things better. Or at least to get himself into the thinking that Sam was not interested in ever being with him again. Dean had no idea what he would then. He'd been holding out for Sam for a decade, Dean didn't think he was going to be able to let that go so easily. If at all.

-=-=-=-

 _He didn't care enough to find me._ That was what Sam had spent ten years convincing himself of. Ten years. That night, the night the end began was a blur to Sam. He remembered his Father coming home to find them together. He absolutely remembered the feel of Dean beneath him, the slightest tingles of _what was to come_ as he rocked forward against his brother's body for a kiss. The chaos of Dean pushing him away as their father came through the door, the hand connecting with his face and Dean leaving. _Dean left._ Those words had stayed with Sam every moment of every day for the first few weeks. _I'm going and it's over._ He left Sam and it was their Father who took care of him, picked up the pieces left of Sam and put him back together. John was more gentle with Sam than he had ever been; it was unusual at first and them Sam just settled to it. John was his family, his father.

 _It's sick._ The words that rattled around in Sam's head for months. He wondered whether Dean had thought that all the time, whether he had just caved to Sam's incessant pressure and never wanted more. Their Father said that Dean had come to realize it was wrong and left before he made things worse - maybe, John had said, the only _good_ decision that Dean had made regarding his younger brother. Sam had spent so much time trying to figure it out, but then, as it's want to do, the past started to fade. The memories of his brother became less painful, something to be avoided rather than felt. He moved on. More accurately, pieces of Sam moved on. Something in him had broken that night, when Dean walked away from him. It was the last time he put himself on the line when it came to relationships. Truth be told it was his last relationship. There were men and women, night of rough sex and uncomfortable mornings when he couldn't remember peoples' names. He just didn't care.

Ten years and Dean was right in front of him, looking like he'd had a wonderful life. He had a job, looked healthy, seemed to have found a place to fit in and live his life. Sam stood in front of his _brother_ with his scar covered body, his old clothes, his head full of memories of hunts. Now Dean was the person with all the education that Sam was supposed to consult with on his job. It stung.

Back in his motel room Sam kicked off his boots and moved about putting things in their place. His life was very ordered. It was how he kept from thinking, if his hands were busy and his mind occupied he could stay one step ahead of the memories. The flashes fought their way through sometimes, the feel of a hip beneath his fingers, the way his name sounded when said by _him_ , the heated feeling of trying to recapture his senses after... Sam shook his head and slammed his duffel against the wall. Yanking his phone out of his pocket he scrolled down to Dean's number in his contacts, finger hovering over _delete_. After a few long moments, he put the phone down, stripped and went to bed.

In the morning Sam had about twenty seconds of peace before the day before came crashing back down onto him. His life was reduced to that now, seconds of peace here and there. Sighing he rolled over and started his day. His feet might have felt like led, his eyes sore and strained but he still had a job to do. Practiced distance got him through most of the morning, indifference the afternoon and Jack Daniels was his date for the evening. By seven that evening more than twenty-four hours since his brother had been standing there in front of him Sam was pretty drunk. Not, unfortunately, drunk enough to be unable to work his phone.

 **Sam W.: Room 204, Town Center Inn. Do what you think you need to.**

Sam smirked to himself as he tossed the phone on the bed beside him and threw back the rest of his drink. He fumbled on the night stand for the pack of cigarettes he had bought earlier and tore the pack open. He pulled one out and pushed his hips up off the bed so he could get his zippo out of his front pocket and light it. Sam only smoked when he drank, maybe he drank sometimes as an excuse to smoke. He wasn't even sure anymore; but then, what difference did it make. It didn't matter why you did something, it simply mattered that you did or didn't do it. He smiled, thinking he might remind Dean of that later. A deep drag off the cigarette gave him a bit of a head rush, the only advantage of not smoking regularly. He stared at the door. _Waiting._

It had only taken moments for Dean's feet to kick start into gear the minute he received the text. He jumped into his car without a moment’s hesitation, peeling out of the apartment complex and to the motel that was on the opposite side of town. For awhile, once he'd pulled up into the spot beside the Impala, Dean stared at the door and wondered if this was the smartest decision. He had no idea what was going on through Sam's mind, what his reasoning was behind inviting Dean over, but he needed a chance to prove himself to Sam and he'd take what he could get.

So he forced himself out of his car and up to the door, pulling in a shaky breath before wrapping his fists on the hard wooden surface and stepping back. Dean stuffed his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet nervously, wondering if Sam was going to punch him the minute the door open.

Sam closed his eyes when the knock broke the silence in the room. Sliding to the edge of the bed he topped up his glass and sniffed, ran a hand through his hair, stood and walked over to the door. Flicking the deadbolt back he pulled the door open wide and turned back to the room without sparing a glance at Dean. Sitting back down on the edge of his bed he swirled the golden brown liquid around in the tumbler.

"Okay..." Dean said softly and stepped into the room, closing the door behind him and walking slowly toward the table, glancing around the room. The bottle of Jack on the table was practically empty and he frowned, wondering if he was here simply as the result of a drunk text message. Sam didn't want him here at all. "Sam?" He asked softly, turning toward him soft eyes, trying to read his posture even though this Sam was basically foreign to him.

"Yeah." Sam had no intention of making this easy for Dean, whatever _this_ was. He knew he shouldn't have contacted him, should have followed his first instinct to slide behind the wheel of the car and head straight out of town. Whenever there was trouble Sam drove until the sun fell down over the horizon behind him. Keep moving.

Dean stepped forward, determining if Sam was going to bolt the closer he came to him. Taking a leap of faith that Sam wasn't going to kill him - at least without giving him a fighting chance - Dean sat on the edge of the bed beside him, far enough away that no part of them touched but close enough that Dean could catch a whiff of his smell. The strong stench of alcohol, the faint musk of sweat, and barely under the surface, a wisp of something that he could almost remember. "I'm sorry you thought I never... because I did. I always have..." he stared hard at Sam's profile, willing him to believe.

Sam downed the rest of his drink and put the glass on the night stand very deliberately. "What do you _want_?" That was all Sam wanted to know, what Dean expected after ten years. A simple question.

That was a remarkably easy question to answer and he shrugged softly, rubbing at the back of his neck, "What I've never stopped wanting. To be part of your life." His heart thudded dully in his chest and he dropped his gaze.

"That's not gonna happen, so..." Sam pushed up off the bed and stared down at his brother, "does that mean we're done talkin'?" His body was aching for something he couldn't even begin to sort out and he was furious with ... this _man_ for shaking up what little solidity Sam had managed to build up in his life.

Dean's heart shattered, though he thought he'd felt every type of pain out there. "Oh," he whispered and stared down at his hands, blinking and watching the tears drip heavy down across his flesh. "What am I supposed to do now? I've spent ten years looking for you and I always thought you'd take me back, that you would have known I never meant any of those things, that I didn't have a choice..." he looked up at Sam and pushed off the bed, curling his fingers into a fist. "Why the hell did you text me Sam? Did you feel the need to make me suffer more? Because ten years of solitude wasn't enough?"

"Yes." Sam's hand connected hard with Dean's shoulder knocking him back down onto the bed. Hunter's reflexes had him on the bed in seconds, kneeling hard across his brother's thighs with one leg, lip curled, arm pressed across the base of Dean's throat. "Yes, I wanted you to suffer." Sam was shaking, his breath only managing to squeeze into his lungs in small gasps. "Do you think that you're the only one who's had a rough time baby?" He whined out the last word.

Struggling under Sam's weight, Dean sucked in a sharp breath, tears picking up speed. "Get off me," he hissed, trying to shove at him but he was no match for the strength his little brother now had. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Dean had been saving himself for ten years for Sam but not in this way, not while Sam was looking at him like he was all those things John had told him he was. _Sick_. "I can't do this Sam. Please, I'll go, whatever you want but don't..." he shook his head roughly and turned his face away.

"Don't what?" Sam tilted his head staring down at the tears that were marking his brother's cheeks.

"Touch me like this," Dean whispered, forcing himself to look at Sam's features. "I've been waiting for you Sam. I haven't been with _anyone_ for ten years. And I can't stand the thought of you touching me with that look in your eyes. That... hatred." He bit down on his lip and pulled in a shaky breath. "Jesus if you're gonna do anything you might as well fucking kill me because I don't think I can take this anymore."

Sam eased up a little on Dean's neck, "what were you expecting? You fuck me, you tell me it was sick - that you don't want..." he cleared his throat, "you leave. And what? You were expecting a hug and a kiss when you got here? Want to catch up, have some coffee? You asked me to go for fucking coffee with you - you son-of-a-bitch. Ten years - and you want to go for coffee." Sam clenched his fist and pulled his arm back slightly then pushed up off the bed quickly, grabbed the cigarettes and moved away. With a shaking hand he lit another smoke and leaned against the door, one foot up on the wood behind him.

"God damnit," Dean pushed roughly off the bed and clenched his fist. "I fucking told you I was forced. John had a fucking _gun_ to my back Sam. He could have killed me right in front of you! He made me say those fucking things I never would have otherwise because they're not true. They have _never_ been true. I get that you've had it pretty bad the last ten years Sam and I'm _sorry_ but you're not the only one who's in pain," he stepped toward Sam, swiping angrily at his cheeks. "I can prove it to you if you want, that I've been searching for you this whole time. You fucking call up your _father_ and demand the truth."

Sam took a long drag on the cigarette to buy himself a few moments. "He's your father too." Sam shifted slightly watching the grey and black ash build up on the end of his cigarette. _The feel of Dean's hands tangled in his hair, tugging his head back to suck his flesh into his mouth_ Sam let his head fall back against the door with a hollow thud. "Okay... so say... _our_ father took some liberties when describing what happened. How does that change anything? Does it change that you were twenty years old and you...." Sam pushed off the door and kicked the chair out from the table dropping down on it then tapping his cigarette on the glass ashtray in the middle of the table. "It was wrong...what we did. Wrong. We're lucky Dad didn't kill us both; he was a good man that night. He..." Sam looked up at his brother. "He took care of me Dean. Do you want to know what happened? That night? The night after?"

Of all the things Sam could have said, hearing him say this was _wrong_ , that love he'd been clinging to for ten years was _wrong_ , worked to stop Dean's heart. He stumbled forward with a gasp of pain, hand falling down hard on the wall. "God you're fucking killing me," he breathed and shook his head, trying to stop the sob from coursing through him but failing. It shook his shoulders and spat the next words around wrenched cries, "He's not my father. Don't call him that. He is _nothing_ to me. I have to go. I have to get out of here," he stumbled toward the door, blindly fumbling for the door knob.

Tossing the cigarette in the ashtray Sam was on his brother quickly. He pressed his body against Dean's back, one hand flat against the door high above Dean's head. Leaning in he pushed his nose through Dean's hair breathing in the painfully familiar scent, his free hand slipped under his brother's shirt and he dragged his calloused palm across Dean's smooth belly. "You go now," he whispered, "and I'll be gone - that will be it."

Dean choked on his sob, pressing back into Sam's body almost on instinct. He was bigger now, covering Dean like a blanket weighing down on his body. His hand was so much rougher on his skin that it used to be and Dean forced himself to turn against Sam's chest, shoving him roughly until he could meet Sam's eyes. "You don't want this," he dead panned, heart shutting down from being too broken, too shattered. "You said it yourself. You don't want me. Go back to your father and let him take care of you, let me go deal with my sick and _wrong_ feelings alone."

Using his body weight to hold Dean against the door, Sam leaned in and ran his cheek across Deans, dragging his lips down the shorter man's neck. He smelled the same, tasted the same, desire flooded through Sam's body. Jamming his thigh between his brother's legs, Sam's hands pushed roughly at his brother's t-shirt, rolling, dragging it up to his chest so his hands could roam over the man's body. His teeth moved along Dean's collar bone, biting down hard as he lifted his thigh up hard against Dean's crotch. Tearing his mouth away he spoke against his brother's ear, "you don't want this?"

Gasping in surprised pleasure, Dean could resist rocking forward another sharp jolt of heat. "Fuck Sam of course I want it," he let his hands curl in Sam's side, head falling hard back into the door. His skin burned from Sam's teeth and he was almost instantly hard, words trailing off with a moan. "You don't."

Sam wide hand, long fingers splayed, slid down over Dean's belly, over his belt buckle and slipped down the squeeze his hard-on. Sam's other hand slid down off the door and grabbed Dean by the back of the neck. He stepped back, tugging Dean forward and walking backwards toward the bed. His fingers loosened on his brother's neck, coaxing rather than pulling. "You can leave if you want," he forced a quieter tone to his voice, less edge. Give him a chance, let him go. Sam moved his fingers up to the soft curls at the nape of Dean's neck. Closing his eyes he dipped his head and let his forehead rest against his brother's, fingers still working gently in those curls.

There was a pretty good possibility that the moment this was over Sam was going to walk out that door and Dean was going to be left a broken, shattered shell of himself. He was pretty much that already. And once it happened that would be it for Dean, he wouldn't have the strength to go on any more. So he gave in to the need for one last swell of feeling. Even if his brother was doing it out of pity or for some twisted form of revenge, Dean didn't care anymore. "Not leaving," he whispered, shoulders shaking as he stepped into Sam, trying to find that part of his brother that had once loved him, searching for that feeling in the gentle fingers along his neck.

Sam backed up until his calves hit the bed and he dropped down letting his hands drag down Dean's chest until they found his belt buckle. He flipped the belt loose keeping his eyes fixed on Dean's, watching every movement the man made. "Take your shirt off," he growled as he undid the button, the zipper and slid his hands inside the man's jeans. shoving the material back he pushed down, feeling Dean's hips move with the pressure, and he tugged the jeans down. "Get those off too…" Sam blinked, staring up at those green eyes. _He had loved, did love, Dean so much._

Dean was fully aware of the fact that he was not in charge of this situation. Sam had all the power and Dean was okay with that even though the cold gaze reflected in Sam's eyes stung like blows to his heart. Pursing his lips, Dean curled his fingers around the hem of his shirt and pulled it up slowly, tossing it to the side. He didn't look away as he toed off his shoes and kicked them to the sides, pushing down the denim and stepping out. "These too?" He asked in a whisper, hooking his thumbs in his boxers.

Sam nodded and grabbed the bottom of his own shirt pulling it up over his head in one quick movement. He leaned back on his hands to watch Dean as he stepped out of his boxers. It was different, being the stronger one - the one with the upper hand. It was a more familiar place for Sam now. More comfortable.

Letting his eyes slid over Sam's chest he hissed softly, hand reaching out to flutter along the scarred skin. "Jesus Sammy..." he whispered, tracing all the grooves and pale white lines that were so unfamiliar and seemed only fitting on his brother now, right along with his attitude. Broken and battered. And it was all Dean's fault. He bit down on his lip and dropped his hand, turning his head to the side.

Snapping his arm out quickly he caught Dean's wrist and pulled him forward to stand between his own denim-clad legs. Sam rested his cheek against Dean's stomach in a rare moment of tenderness. He remembered this so strongly he could taste his brother's skin already; the flavor was in his soul right along with the sound of the heartbeat he could hear so distantly.

Heart clenching painfully, Dean slid his hand up to cup Sam's head, stroking down slowly. "Sammy..." he whispered, wondering if he was tapping into some part of Sam that had been closed off until now.

Shifting his weight quickly he spun Dean and threw him down on the bed beside him leaning down to slide his leg over his brother's pinning him there. Teeth grating down Dean's shoulder Sam grabbed hold of his brother's cock, stiff and hot, and slid his rough palm over it a few times. He mouthed his way down Dean's arm, across his chest and caught a nipple between his teeth. Rolling the sensitive nub of flesh back and forth Sam flicked his tongue over it as his fingers tightened on his brother's shaft.

"Fuck," Dean gasped in pleasure, body arching up into Sam's sudden touched. He forgot how good it felt to be touched, and Sam's palm was so much large on him now, so much rougher. The strokes were quick and fast and not at all tentative like they once had been so many years ago. Dean curled his fingers into Sam's shoulder, body shifting restlessly beneath his, rolling up for more touch. Dean slid his hand down the firm line of Sam's chest, over slightly raised flesh, before curling around his jeans and tugging.

"Don't," Sam mumbled against Dean's chest as he brushed his brother's hand away. Dragging his tongue along his brother's ribs Sam pulled back and stood. "Get comfortable," he flicked the button on his pants open, grimacing as he eased the pressure on his own swollen shaft. He padded over to the ashtray and butted out the still smoldering cigarette and then reached out to lock the door. "Don't want to be disturbed," he said as he walked over to the night stand. A bottle of lube appeared in his hand after he yanked open the drawer and he sat back down on the bed.

Watching his brother's hand curl around the bottle of lube, Dean felt his breath catch in his throat. He had a hunch where this was headed and his muscles tensed. Shifting on the bed slightly to sit up, he watched Sam's movements, wetting his lips with a slow drag of his tongue. "So... you're going to..." he asked quietly, dropping his gaze.

"You used to finish more of your sentences." Sam shoved his jeans down a little and settled back on the bed beside Dean running a hand down the middle of his brother's chest. "I'm going to ... what?" Sam's face was blank as he tried to make this like every other time there'd been a guy in his room. It was proving harder than he thought; much harder.

"Never mind," Dean shook his head and settled back. He would take whatever it was that Sam wanted to give him. He was being given the chance to have something that meant more to him than anything else. Being with his brother, the man he loved, the _only_ person he ever would. He shifted closer to Sam, watching his face flatten out to nothing. "I don't suppose you'll kiss me?" He whispered, wetting his lips and trying to keep his eyes from locking on Sam's lips.

Sam's lip twitched. "No, I don't suppose I will. Is that a problem?" Sam's fingers moved through the rough curls at the base of his brother's cock, "I ..." he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment fighting back the words that came naturally for all those years, "I won't stop you if you want to go." His eyes softened for a moment as he looked down at Dean. His brother looked almost more sad now, like he was losing something he'd thought he couldn't lose again.

Looking away when his heart did that familiar clenching in ache, Dean whispered, "Not leaving." He clung to the words, forcing himself to listen to them even as his mind told him how utterly foolish he was being. Dean was basically handing his brother his heart and allowing him to strangle whatever remained of life in it. He didn't reach out to touch Sam like he wanted, he didn't cry like he thought he might so that was something. "How should I lay?" He asked quietly, resigning himself to this, the only way he'd ever get to have his brother again.

"Wh..what?" Sam leaned back a little as his brother's resignation knocked the wind out of his sails.

Looking over at him with sad eyes, Dean shrugged, "This is the only way it can be right? We both know who's in charge here so..." he shrugged once more and looked away, wetting his lips. "I'll do whatever it is that you want."

Something really unpleasant coursed through Sam's veins, like liquid fear. "It doesn't have to be... like that... I mean, fuck, I'm not inhuman. I thought you wanted..." Sam's heart was clenching tighter and tighter in his chest. This wasn't going at all the way he wanted it to. Licking his lips he huffed out a forced laugh, "used to a little more life in my men." He curled his hand over Dean's hip and shook him slightly. "You gonna be here for this or just check out?" Hurt, it was hurt that was coursing through his veins. Frozen, sharp, painful hurt that he could do this to his brother.

Looking down at the hand on his hip, Dean blinked a few times before lifting his eyes and staring at Sam's face. _My men_. Jealousy instantly flared through him and he wondered how many there had been, what number he would be on the list of conquests. "I'm still here aren't I?" He asked steadily, scratching absently at his chest.

He stared down at Dean for almost a full minute, taking in the man's face. This wasn't the brother he remembered. "I made a mistake." Sam pushed up off the bed and pulled his jeans back up, buttoning them and leaning down to pick up his shirt. He'd made a mistake alright, everything in his body was pushing him to comfort this man he barely knew. He wanted to kiss him, that was the last thing he'd said that sounded like it meant anything. "I'm..." Sam tugged his shirt down over his head, "I'm sorry. You should probably ... you should go, I think. You're not ... you don't want to… be with me." Sam's heart was cracking open and he needed Dean out of there now. Moving quickly to the table he retrieved his glass and poured himself another drink.

"What? No," Dean shook his head roughly, climbing off the bed and tugging on his boxers just to have something covering him. He really wasn't sure how much more his heart could take. "Please Sam, don't send me away. I want to be here. I want this," he stepped forward, reaching out to lay his hand on Sam's arm. "I want you. Please just... this once. I've waited so long..."

"Don't be so..." _forgiving_ was the word that Sam bit off, "pathetic," was what came out. "This isn't turning out to be the _good time_ I thought it might. Forget it." Sam threw back the rest of the liquid in his drink. "You want a drink? You look like you could use one. Let's just sit and _chat_ about the good old days shall we?" It was better if this all ended tonight. Sam could talk with Dean, make like he could be the guy's friend without thinking every second of that broken-hearted sixteen year old still cowering in some dark corner of his brain. Tomorrow, he could just disappear. Get on the road, find a new job, forget this ever happened.

The last of the little holds Dean had on his sanity dripped away and he nodded sharply, turning away and looking around for his clothes. "Fine." He snapped, stepping roughly into his jeans. "I'd rather not drink so I'll just be getting out of your hair. Maybe you can go pick up some random guy and have your _good time_." He yanked his shirt down quickly over his head and dropped on the edge of the bed to pull in his shoes. "You don't want to _chat_ with me so I'm not even gonna bother," shoving off the bed, Dean fixed his eyes on Sam and sighed. "Not that it means anything to you, but I'll always love you. I'm sorry you don't know that."

"Drive safely." Sam slid his empty glass into the center of the table barely able to breathe past the emotion locked in his chest. The ache of tears was everywhere in his body ... except his eyes. He pushed up from the chair and grabbed his duffel, threw it on the bed and began packing up his stuff.

Dean didn't know why he thought Sam might actually say something to stop him but the sting in his heart still shook him. Dean choked on a sob as he headed for the door, pulling it open and stepping through, slamming it sharply behind him. It felt like everything in his life had been snuffed out, all hopes and drives, and Sam was right. He was pathetic. And so very alone it ached. Walking slowly to his car he climbed into the driver’s side and fell against the steering wheel, wondering how many minutes would pass before Sam appeared and drove off in his Impala, once more, and this time for good.

Sam managed to get all his stuff together quickly. He'd had a lot of practice and since the night he and his father first hit the road without Dean Sam had learned not to get attached to things. Everything he owned now was in this room with him. He did have the good sense to realize he was too drunk to drive and too fucked up over his visit with Dean to even consider going out. There wasn't going to be any comfort in finding a stranger with soft curls at the nap of his neck and a scatter of freckles across his nose. Not this night. He pulled the curtains and flicked the light out falling onto the bed.


	4. Chapter 4

When Dean woke he knew he flew out of bed, mostly out of shock because he was in his own bed and for a few minutes he couldn't even remember how he got there. Then the night before came back with a slap in the face and a punch in the gut and he went through the motions on auto pilot. It was only after six so he pulled on his sweats and tennis shoes and began jogging. He ran until his lungs strained for hair, until sweat puddle down his body, until he was so dizzy he practically passed out. Then he showered and tried not to think about his brother's rough and calloused hand curling around his cock, choosing to think about how cold his eyes had been instead to calm the want and desire.

Dean dressed in black dress pants, a white button down, dark blue tie, dark blue sweater. The picture of a professional. Dean's eyes slid to the computer for a moment, thinking about all the other mornings when he'd start up the system and key in some search for his brother. That was over now. Teaching was the only thing Dean had left now, he seriously doubted it was going to be enough to keep him going for long but for now, it was all he had. So he headed to his eight o'clock class and set about trying to make it look like his very self wasn't collapsing in misery. It was nearly impossibly work.

There was no point in Sam trying to convince himself he was _waking up_ in the morning. He was regaining consciousness. He had tried to sleep, tried to stuff everything back down inside by drinking until he could barely see; when that didn't work Sam drank until he couldn't see at all. Regaining consciousness wasn't all that great. The first thing on Sam's agenda was to throw up what little there was in his stomach. He couldn't remember if he'd actually eaten anything. The second thing he did was stagger back to the bed and cry.

Sam's ten years of shoving Dean out of his mind, trying to pretend he'd never had a brother - let alone - a brother he was in love with were shot to shit in a few moments. Sam hadn't cried in years but then he'd cried so much the week after his father and he and driven away from his brother that he'd thought it wasn't even possible to cry another tear. And here he was. _Broken_ all over again because of Dean.

He paced the room for an hour or so, wiping the tears of his face with his shirt sleeve, smoking the rest of his cigarettes and not even noticing when he burned his fingers. A full ashtray and a completely empty bottle of whiskey were his only signs of time passing. Searching around the room he found his jacket and car keys and headed out in the late afternoon.

It wasn't difficult to find Dean at the University. Sam went straight to his brother's office ignoring the curious gazes from student and faculty alike. Dean's teaching schedule was posted on his door and Sam wandered around the long polished hallways until he heard his brother's voice through the closed door. He waited. Soon enough the students were filing out of the door, brushing past Sam and knocking into him as he shoved his way through the tide to get into the classroom. When he finally made it he leaned against the wall right by the door and stared at his brother as he shoved papers around on his desk and started to clear off his desk.

Once Dean had everything from his desk he stepped back, turning to head to his office and halting in his steps, eyes wide. "Sam..." he whispered, staring at him in shock. Sam shouldn't have been there. He should have been long gone. And he certainly shouldn't have been _crying_. Stepping forward slowly, he judged his brother's reaction before closing the distance and pulling Sam in for a strong hug, arms wrapping tightly around him, "Sammy..."

Sam allowed himself a few moments of warmth and then pushed Dean back a little, "are you done? Can we... I need to... your place?" Sam ran a shaking hand through his hair and leaned back against the wall. Feeling Dean's arms around him had nearly shattered the remaining hold that he had on himself.

Nodding quickly, Dean stepped to the side and headed for the door. "Just need to leave a note that I'm canceling my office hours, come on." He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Sam was following him as they moved through the building to his office. He nodded a quick hello at one of his fellow teachers but didn't stop walking even if the man had seemed interested in starting up a conversation. He swiped at the white board on his office door and wrote a quick note before turning to Sam. "Did you want to follow me there? I'm parking in the side lot," he pointed down the hall in the direction of the lot. "Or we can ride in your car, I can walk here tomorrow, or later." He hands shook slightly, nerves building up in him.

Tugging the keys to the Impala out of his jeans Sam tossed them to Dean, "don't wanna leave the stuff here." His voice was quiet and he kept his head down avoiding the gazes of passing students. Shuffling closer to Dean he lowered his voice more, "the guns."

"Okay..." Dean stared down at the keys in his hand, a little shocked. "Did you park out here?" He pointed, watched Sam's nod and turned to lead them out of the building. Fear built in Dean that something had snapped in his brother, something that obviously released a tidal wave of thoughts and feelings and this seemed pretty fucking huge. He didn't know if he was strong enough to pick up all of Sam's pieces but if he was going to be given the chance, he was certainly going to take it. "Sure you're okay with me driving?" He asked Sam, lips twitching up for a moment. Sam just nodded as they approached the Impala and he unlocked the door, leaning over to get Sam's before settling behind the wheel. "Wow," he whispered, ghosting his fingers over the wheel. "Talk about memory lane."

"She's all I got." It wasn't a warning, it was a simple statement of fact. There really was so little else to Sam's life and that made the band around this chest pull even tighter. He slid down on the passenger seat and let his head fall back against the seat, his knee rocking back and forth as he crossed his arms tightly across his chest.

Glancing over at Sam, Dean's lips thinned out as he slid the key into the ignition and turned it. "I wouldn't necessarily agree with that," he said softly even as he backed out and took them through the parking lot, heading toward his apartment building. He wasn't really surprised by Sam's lack of an answer though it did make his stomach clench unpleasantly. Keeping his eyes on the road, he took them quickly through the town, pulling into his parking lot less than ten minutes later. The minute he locked the door to the Impala he tossed the keys toward Sam and led him toward the nearest building, up a flight of stairs as he tugged his own keys from his pocket. Turning to look at Sam, he said softly, "It's not much," he shrugged and unlocked the door, pushing it open.

Sam wandered into the room and looked around. It was simple, uncluttered, not much different than Sam's motel room when it came back down to it except for the fact that his furniture was newer. "No mementos?" Sam waved his hand at the blank walls.

"Never found anything worth putting up," Dean shrugged as he glanced around. "I only have one picture and I keep it in my wallet." He kicked his shoes off and tugged his sweater off. "I'm gonna change into something less... Professor…y," he gestured to his outfit and headed for the bedroom. "You can help yourself to whatever in the kitchen."

Tugging his boots off and shoving them to the side with his foot Sam padded into the living room and sat down on the couch. He was shivering; it was arrogance last night that had gotten him into so much trouble. He'd thought himself above the feelings Dean seemed so willing to war on his sleeve. His eyes moved around the room and he noticed the blanket behind him; snatching it off the couch he wrapped it around his shoulders as his breathing started to speed up again. "Dean?" Sam started to rock back and forth a little then pushed up off the couch and stumbled toward the doorway his brother had gone through.

Dean was just tugging on his shirt as he turned to Sam, frowning as he once more crossed to him. "Hey," he said softly, reaching out to lay a hand on his arm. "What is it? What can I do Sam?" He swallowed a few times, stepping a little closer.

The tears started again and Sam couldn't stop shaking, even his teeth were chattering. It was like he was going into shock or something; crazy ass fucking brain. "C..Cold," Sam stuttered out and stepped closer to his brother; if he could just get close enough for that scent. _Comfort_ "Is it ok..kay that I'm here?' Sam stepped back a little and moved over to the bed sitting on the very edge. "I have n..nowhere else to go right now."

Dean wasn't as sure about the answer as he thought he should have been but he nodded and walked to Sam, dropping down beside him and wrapping an arm around his shoulder. "Yeah Sam, it's okay." He pursed his lips for a moment before looking behind him. "Want to lay down? I can... you can lay with me. To get warm?" He was beyond confused, unsure, nervous about the direction this was going to go and how he might feel afterward.

Blinded by his tears again, Sam nodded and leaned hard against his brother snaking his arms around Dean's waist. He shuddered and gasped in a breath at the pain that washed over him. So familiar ... Dean's arms were strong and warm and Sam buried his face in his brother's neck. The sob that worked its way up through his chest took his breath away. He clung to Dean and struggled to pull air back into his lungs and it all came rushing back out again in cries and muttered curses. His hands clawed at his brother's back as he tried and failed to get closer, _more_ , back in time somehow - past the hurt and the _leaving_.

"Sammy," Dean soothed softly, pulling them back across the bed and letting Sam lay mostly on top of him, holding him as tightly as he could. "It's okay, I've got you," he murmured and stroked his hand through Sam's hair, trying to calm him from the weight of everything. In the end he decided it was probably best to simply hold him as tight as he could and wait out the tears.

Sam didn't think, didn't wonder, didn't try to figure anything out. He held onto his brother like he was clinging to the side of a rock face and it felt like he was. At first he tried to talk, tell Dean him why everything was so fucked up but he couldn't get the words out through his sobs. He just lay there watching as his tears dampened his brother's shirt. There was only so much that could come out of Sam before he was just _used up_ ; he looked up at his brother after minutes? Hours? He had no idea how long Dean had been holding him. "Sorry..." Sam murmured, pressing his hand over his brother's heart and leaning down to listen to the dull thudding deep inside Dean's chest. Sam's head was stuffed full of cotton, and every part of him ached and he had _absolutely_ no idea what to do.

"Nothing to be sorry for," Dean said softly, stilling his hand in Sam's hair. "Did you want any water? Tissues?" He asked softly, rubbing his palm down into Sam's shoulders in slow circles. Dean hoped there was something he could get Sam because he really had no idea what he could say to make him better. Or if there was anything at all.

"I need to call Dad don't I?" Sam's voice was thick and far away.

Shoulders tensing slightly, Dean looked down at Sam, blinking a few times. "I... don't know. If that's something you feel like you need to do then..." he shrugged and looked away. "Do you see him a lot?"

Sam sighed. "Not as much as we used to, it's hard to hunt _with_ someone." Sam sat up slowly feeling a bit like he'd been on a three day drinking binge. Rubbing his temples he leaned forward, "headache." Blinking a few times Sam turned suddenly to look at Dean. "The night you left - why didn't you come back for me? Why not come back that night?"

"I was going to. After dad passed out..." Dean sighed and shook his head. "I was two houses down, sitting along the street for maybe ten minutes and then _he_ drove by in the Impala." Dean's eyes glazed as he thought back to that horrible night and how badly his body had ached with grief. "I ran after you but he never stopped. I must have run miles..." He pulled his hand back from Sam's shoulders and rubbed hard at his eyes.

"I can't ... I don't remember the way everything happened. I don't know - it's like my memory is messed up somehow. Maybe I got hit harder than I thought." Sam rubbed at his face. "Dad was good to me after you left. You need to know that. He..." Sam looked down at his hands, "he drove for hours with me lying against him." The memories were hard and sharp like razor blades across Sam's mind opening old wounds afresh. "We should never have ... I mean not the ..." Sam waved his hand between them, "not the physical stuff - but we were, well, _you_ were everything to me. I couldn't breathe in the car. When I woke up, _fuck_." Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't even know how long we drove and then I woke up and I... couldn't breathe... and Dad said I was panicking. I knew I wasn't it was just you. You were gone. And all the air went out of the world at the same time." He swore softly and stood up so he could straighten his shirt and pace over to the window. "Fuck it - I sound like a crappy romance novel." The walls were coming back up.

Dean stared at him, shifting on the bed until he could drop his legs off the edge and rub at his neck. "I'm sorry I ruined your life Sam," he said softly and pushed up. "I'm glad you had your father there to look after you, at least he did that," he walked through the room, out the door and into the kitchen. He felt for Sam, he really did, and the guilt that shot through him was so intense it nearly swallowed the ache that clenched his heart constantly. But he also knew how Sam felt, he remembered that pain, he lived with it constantly, and he didn't have anyone’s side to lie against, didn't have anyone to look after him. And he hadn't had a choice. Pulling a glass from the cabinet, Dean filled it to the brim with water and drained its contents in one long swallow.

Sam picked up the blanket off the bed and folded it up to carry it back out to his brother's couch. So weird, his brother had a couch. Sam had never owned a piece of furniture in his life. Following Dean back out into the main room Sam put the folded blanket on the couch and stood there for a few moments running his fingers over it, tracing the pattern of lines and curves. "You want a ride to your car? I should probably head out of town... I guess." He spoke in the general direction of the kitchen where he could hear his brother moving quietly.

Setting the glass down on the counter, Dean sighed softly and walked out of the room, leaning against the wall and folding his arms across his chest. "I'll walk there later," he fixed his eyes on Sam, trying to not let himself be consumed with disappointment. "Can I show you something before you go?" He asked quietly, pushing off the wall and picking at his jeans.

"Yeah, course." Sam walked over to where Dean was standing and stuffed his hands in his pocket. He didn't have to leave, he'd said it because that was what was in his mind - leaving- in the Winchester family you left when the going got tough.

"Wait here," Dean said quietly and walked back into the bedroom, pulling up the familiar box from the cabinet and carrying it out to the living room. He set the box on the table and pulled off the lid, clutching in his fingers and stepping back. "That's... all the pages," he glanced at Sam then looked back down. "Every day I ran searches, nothing came up, so I... printed these, they're in order." Dean swallowed and stared at the 3,500+ papers that basically were all he had to show for the past ten years.

Moving closer Sam picked up the top few pages then picked up some more. "Searching for me," he almost whispered. He didn't understand what had happened with his Father, or how things had become so confusing. Sam had always been _so_ sure that Dad had been calling Dean, he'd left messages somewhere. Sam dropped the papers like they were burning his fingers and started searching through the pockets of his coat. Tugging his phone out he flicked through the contact menu and his dial when he saw _Dad._ The phone ran a few times and he heard his father's gravelly voice.

"Dad, I'm here with Dean." Sam waited a moment to let the full weight of his words sink in.

John's voice was hesitant when he finally spoke. "You found him?"

"I found him." Sam closed his eyes and leaned back on the couch. "Dad - the night Dean left what happened?" He heard the rustling of clothes, creaking, his father shifting the phone to his other ear.

"We've been over this a _hell_ of a lot of times Sammy." John cleared his throat, "Sam, you believe what you gotta believe but I've always done what was best for you and that's all that's important. Dean was always different than you, and he was your older brother. I think he knows he shouldn't have ... he knows... Sammy you ask him."

Sighing Sam opened his eyes and looked over at his brother. "Where you at Dad? I wanna come see you."

The conversation was stilted after that, after the non-answer. Sam hung up with a location and an order to give John a few days to wind up the case he was on. He shoved the phone back in his pocket and stared over at Dean. "Dean." Sam took a deep breath and leaned forward letting his head drop. He was _so_ fucking tired. "Can I ask you a question?"

Dean, who had been staring at the box of papers and once more been considering chucking them all out the window, turned to Sam and nodded. "Sure."

"I want you to tell me honestly. What do you think he should have done with us? When he found out? Did you think what we were doing was right? What would have happened?" Sam blurted out everything at once hoping Dean would just be able to sort through and make some sense of it, put the pieces together. _Give Sam something to go on._

"I won't defend his actions," Dean said without hesitations. "And I won't say anything nice about him outside the fact I'm relieved that he listened to my request to look after you," he moved slowly to the couch and sat on the opposite end, turning his eyes to Sam. "You should know that before I say anything else." He waited until Sam nodded before lifting his eyes to the wall and taking a steadying breath. "I loved you then Sam, just as I do now. Our relationship... it was wrong in a lot of people's eyes but never mine. I understand why John was upset but _nothing_ gave him the right to hold a gun to me and threaten my life and yours. He should have given it some time, should have thought about things, should have seriously considered his actions before he kicked me out. I never would have expected him to support us but to do what he did," he shook his head roughly, turning his gaze to Sam once more. "I was all alone Sam. I had _no one_ and no matter how hard I looked for you... and all I could think about was the way he made me lie to you. The things he threatened me with to get me to go. That's why he will never be my father again, not in my mind."

"So, he told you he was going to kill you?" Sam shook his head. “I can't believe that. You're his son too, Dean. He missed you, I know he did. He used to tell me stories while we were driving about you learning to shoot, teaching you to... to drive. He was always sad that he never got to teach me any of that... he said you got all the best of me." Lifting his gaze slowly Sam looked over at Dean. "Can you do something for me?"

"He didn't miss me," Dean dead panned and wished he could go back to that night and video record it so Sam would know the truth, would see it with his own eyes. Turning back to Sam, he nodded. "I'll do anything for you."

Eyes darting up to his brother's, Sam blinked once then looked away. "Come with me to see Dad." He knew it was asking a lot. Sam was familiar with the whole idea of not trusting and not moving on, in fact, he'd made an art form of it. He just wasn't sure he could face a couple of things that were looming over him. What if his father had lied? Sam had no idea what he would do. What if Dean was lying? Sam couldn't even meet his brother's eyes for more than a few seconds without feeling like his heart was being torn out of his chest. Sam turned his face away from Dean, afraid it would show his fear.

Pulling in a sharp breath, Dean stared hard at his coffee table. It had always been some secret wish of Dean's, to see John Winchester one final time and show him just how much he had done with his life. Even if it wasn't that much at all. He was a fucking college _Professor_. He taught people, people who looked up to him, who never judged or threw him away like garbage. But going back there, with Sam... Dean knew it was something he _had_ to do if he ever wanted his brother to know the truth. John would lie and lie and Dean might never see him again, but Dean could call him on all those lies if he were there. "Okay," he nodded and looked up at his brother. "Okay I'll go with you. When?"

Relief washed over Sam and he nodded slowly. "I... uh..." there were tears welling in his eyes again, "he's close, couple day's drive from here? You need to get time off work?" Sam's first thought was to retreat to the safety of the car. _Get the hell outta dodge._

Nodding, Dean instantly pushed up and moved to the kitchen to retrieve the dean's number. "Yeah, I'll explain that it's uh... a family emergency," he carried the number with him to the table and snatched his cell phone. "Then we'll have to get my car... am I riding with you or would you prefer I drove myself?" He hands were already starting to shake, the bite of fear snaking through him at the thought of seeing that man after so long and once more looking into cold, detached eyes.

Sam blinked a few times and rubbed a hand over his face, "I hadn't really thought about it. Maybe both cars in case things... don't ... well..." There was a sting in his own words. There was no way for this to end well. Sam was going to finish this ride with a brother _or_ a Father. Not both. Never both. "This is so fucked," he muttered softly.

"I know," Dean nodded slowly and moved to sit on the couch beside Sam once more, looking over at him with sympathetic eyes. "I'm so sorry Sam. I wish it wasn't like this..." Dean reached out and laid his hand on Sam's arm. Being around him and not being able to touch him was hard, but thinking about those touches being brushed off was even harder. Sighing, he squeezed Sam's arm and pulled away before the man could make him. "Are you sure you want me to go?"

Not more than two feet away. Dean was sitting not more than two feet away from Sam and he didn't even have the balls to reach out like Dean did. "Yeah," he muttered, "I want you to be there - I don't know how else this ends."

Dean knew exactly how he hoped this would end but he also knew it was going to be very difficult if or when it came to that point. "Okay," he nodded and dragged his teeth along his lip, sighing softly. "Well I guess I should call the dean then and let him know. Did you want to take a nap before we go? Or just leave once we've gotten my car?" He pushed up again, walking to his phone and the number on the table.

Sam stumbled to his feet and took a step toward Dean then stopped. "A nap? I ... we're going now? Today I mean?" Sam's heart kicked up a notch and a rush of adrenaline overpowered his exhaustion. "I can ... whenever you're ready ... I guess."

"If you think we should go today," Dean turned to him, brow pulling together in confusion. It was hard to get a read on his brother when he was all over the place like this but Dean had this feeling it would be like this for awhile. "What did your dad say? When did you arrange to meet?"

"I ... I don't know..." Sam's thoughts were a mess. "Should I go? I should go - I gave up my Motel room - I gotta find somewhere else to stay. We can go as soon as you're ready. Tomorrow?"

"Okay," Dean frowned at the floor before looking up. "You can stay here. If you want. You can have my bed, I don't mind the couch," he tried a smile, thinking he was fairly certain he hadn't smiled since the first time he saw his brother. It seemed weird, considering how often he smiled at his students, how they saw him as a fun guy and Sam must see him as something so much more emotional and broken.

Huffing out a very sharp laugh Sam shook his head, "I can't stay here without..." His eyes darted over to Dean. "I can't stay here." There was so much tension in the room Sam felt like his head was going to blow up. "Do you want me out of here while you make your calls and stuff?" He tried to change the subject.

Turning to the side, Dean shook his head. "Doesn't matter," he curled his fingers around the paper and stepped back to the table, flipping open his phone. "Will you take me to my car before you leave?" His heart sank slightly at the words. Dean had been silly to think Sam would just want to hang out with him, talk about something other than the entire crap thing weighing on both their shoulders.

Sam stepped closer and reached out curling his hand around the back of Dean's neck. Rubbing his thumb through the curls he remembered just at the base of Dean's skull. "I'm fuckin' scared, Dean." Sam let his eyes close and stepped close enough to feel the head of Dean's chest against his. "I want ... I want _you_ and I can't. I don't even know how to tell you." He opened his eyes and turned to face his brother, lips so close to Dean's. "I can't go through that again - I've never, _fuck_ , it's like I've never been right since you left." Sighing Sam tilted his head to lean against his brother's. His fingers twitched at his sides. Sam had never ached more to touch anyone.

Pulling in a quick breath, Dean slowly reached up and let his hands curl around Sam's arms. "I know what you mean," he whispered. "I feel so broken without you, always have." He tilted his head and let it run along the side of Sam's face, lips grazing along his cheek. "Stay here with me tonight. We don't have to do anything. We can just _be_ together. I can tell you about me, what I've been up too. Anything. Just... stay." He slid his hands up to Sam's neck, massaging slowly, holding his breath and hoping this moment wouldn't end badly.

Sam's wasn't sure if his knees buckled because of Dean's touch or if he just ran out of whatever had been keeping him going for ten years. He fell to his knees hard, it hurt like a bastard but not nearly as much as finding himself with his arms wrapped around his brother's legs like he was trying to stop him from leaving all over again. Face pressed up against his brother's jeans Sam felt like an idiot, like some lunatic just let out of a mental institute.

Stepping back slightly, Dean knelt beside his brother and let his arms wrap around strong shoulders, pulling him close. "It's okay," Dean whispered, cupping the back of Sam's head with his palm and bringing him to rest in the crook of his neck. His other hand slid down his back, pulling him in closer and breathing in the strong smell of him. Without the lingering wisps of alcohol the scent of his brother was much stronger. Tilting his head to the side he pressed a kiss to Sam's temple and sighed shakily. "Do you think you can stay with me?"

His brother's words echoed in his head. "I'd do anything for you." Sam wrapped his arms around his brother - around the man his brother had grown into and held him as tight as he could.

With a soft smile Dean continued circling Sam's back in gentle strokes, pressing another kiss to his temple and resituating them on the floor to be more comfortable. He would hold Sam like this for as long as he wanted, even if his legs started aching. He'd be okay with that as long as it kept Sam here with him.

He didn't mean to turn his lips toward Dean's. He didn't mean to do anything really; it was as though some sort of muscle-memory took over. It was just what he would have always done. From there it was just a matter of tilting his head to slide his lips over Deans and just a matter of remembering how to breathe when fire shot through his body. Just like he remembered, _soft, silky, Dean_.

As unprepared as Dean was for the kiss, he fell into it as if it were second nature. A soft whimper fell from his lips as he shifted into the kiss, barely moving them along Sam's and feeling the jolt and surprise of pleasure. His hand slid to thread through Sam's hair, cupping softly, allowing him to pull back if he needed it. Despite all the years of not feeling this, it seemed to come like second nature, the gentle glide and slide, the heat and spark. Dean's heart slammed loudly in his chest.

Time was kind of relative all things considered and against those lips ten years melted away to seconds and this was the kiss that Sam should have given his brother the night he left; the one he was leaning into when their father walked through the door. Sam's knees were aching, his heart thudding away against his ribcage and he wanted _more_. It was just a warm kiss, gentle and tender and then it was _more_. Sam's tongue slipped out of his mouth and traced along his brother's bottom lip; the same bottom lip that he never found on all the mouths he kissed.

With the faintest slide forward and tightening of his fingers, Dean let his tongue slip out to graze along Sam's. Pulling back with a gasp, Dean let his eyes flicker along Sam's face before he dove back in, slanting their lips over each others, sliding his tongue forward and into Sam's mouth, swiping in circles. The inside of Sam's mouth was familiar, warm, delicious in a way he had almost forgotten. His hand came down to cup Sam's cheek, trying to move forward so their bodies could touch.

Sam shifted quickly, pulling his brother onto his lap as he fell backwards on to his ass. He hissed out a breath and grabbed the back of Dean's belt pulling him up higher on his thighs. It was all different now, Sam so much more man than sixteen year old. They should talk, he knew that, even as his mouth crashed back into his brother's and he clutched at the back of his shirt tugging it this way and that.

Dean couldn't help groaning as their bodies slid together. It was a little surreal to sit in _Sam's_ lap. The man was basically bigger than him and that hit Dean in a pleasant and wonderful way. He sucked eagerly on Sam's tongue, enjoying the way his brother moved beneath him. With another gasp he pulled back, eyes fluttering open to scan his brother's face. "Sammy," he breathed, sliding his fingers along Sam's cheek before brushing their lips together once more. He couldn't get enough; it was too much like coming home.

Pulling his knees up slightly Sam forced Dean to fall against him. He slid his hands up his brothers back then back down then slipped them under his brother's shirt. The flesh of his brother's back was hot, still smooth and familiar. It was all familiar. Sam moaned and shifted his weight so he could slide his hands under Dean's ass. Digging his fingers into the muscles he thrust his tongue forward into Dean's mouth, reclaiming every surface with each sweep of his tongue.

The moan that echoed through their kiss was loud enough to have him pulling back, hips shifting down into Sam's hands on his ass. "We really should..." he leaned in and brushed their lips together. "Talk," he added as his tongue came out to sweep along Sam's lips then he dipped down to suck along his jaw line, so much more firm then it was ten years ago. So well defined it was breath taking. Dean murmured something into wide expanse of Sam's neck, sucking softly.

"Talk?" Sam's hands squeezed hard then slid back up his brother's back to grab onto his shirt. He pulled Dean back, breaking their kiss and staring up into his brother's eyes. "Talk then..." Sam let his hands fall down Dean's sides and settled them on his brother's legs; his thumbs dug into Dean's inner thighs. Sam was glad of the chance to breathe, get himself in control again. Dean moving over him, the ways his mouth moved on his neck was killing him inside. Dean was gorgeous. Sam had always figured maybe he remembered his brother through sixteen year old - maybe he idolized him - but he really was that amazing to look at. The green of those eyes was greener than anything Sam had imagined over the years.

Pulling in a shaky breath, Dean smiled softly and cupped Sam's face, dragging his thumbs along his brother's cheeks. "I really have missed you," he whispered, meeting Sam's eyes and laying a finger across his lips. "Shh just let me say this stuff okay?" He waited for Sam to nod slightly before leaning down and brushing their lips together. "No matter what happens, I will always love you. I know you've suffered... I can't even imagine what it was like... but as long as you want me around I'm going to be here now okay?" Dean sighed softly and tensed his shoulders, waiting for Sam to push him away. It was too much, he should have reeled his words back. "I know we need to get to know each other again. I'd like to do that."

Sam closed his eyes, still able to feel the sound of his brother's words. It was a minute, maybe longer before he could speak. "Okay ... yeah." He opened his eyes as the words left his mouth and smiled as he looked down at his brother's pendent. Lifting one hand he picked it up letting his fingers graze his brother's chest. "You still have it." His fingers slowly uncurled and lay flat on Dean's chest.

Smiling down at his brother, Dean nodded and slid his hand back into Sam's hair, brushing their lips together and chuckling softly. "I can't seem to stop doing that," he mumbled and shifted back, hand coming up to graze Sam's on his chest. "Of course I kept it. I have... a shirt too," Dean looked to the side, biting his lip. "One that hadn't been packed. I went back to the house... found it." He wet his lips and shook his head. "Makes me sound like a fuckin' stalker huh?"

Laughing softly Sam shook his head. "Nah ... I ... I had nothing." Sam looked down as the smile faded from his lips. "When I woke up I was in the back seat of the car, didn't even know where and I had nothing of you." Sam blinked back the tears that seemed to be threatening every time he opened his mouth to speak. "I wasn't sure sometimes if you were ever real." He chewed on the side of his bottom lip for a while. "The smell of you," he blew out a breath as a tear fell from the corner of his eye, "was on my shirt for a while." He wiped at his cheek with the back of his hand. "Sorry..."

Swiping at his tears with the pad of his thumb, Dean leaned in and kissed the tears off his face. "Has there been anything in the past ten years that was good?" He asked quietly and shifted on Sam's lap. "I should move, I'm probably hurting you," he quirked his lips up in a smile and shifted back.

"I used to sit on you like that. You never complained." Sam smiled slightly. It made him a little sad that he couldn't think of anything to tell his brother. Taking a deep breath Sam scratched at the back of his head. "I hunt. I suppose that's good. Helped a lot of people. Didn't fuck up too much." He shrugged. "Tell me more about teaching, seems like you turned out to be the smart one after all." In case Dean was thinking about moving Sam slipped his fingers through his brother's belt loop.

Chuckling softly, Dean shook his head, "Nah, not really smarter. I just teach mythology and folklore, things I know about." Dean shrugged and rested his forearms on Sam's shoulders, slipping his fingers in his hair. "One creative writing class but I think I might suck at it. I... got bored. With the mechanic stuff after a few years. I tried to hunt once but..." Dean shook his head, "Didn't go so well. So I made some fake information and became Professor Smith." Dean laughed again and relaxed into his brother, enjoying the way his heart fluttered at the gentleness of the moment. "I do okay. Any time I'm not here I'm there. It keeps me busy enough."

"That's good." Sam's heart was already miles ahead of his mind wondering how settled his brother was. "Guess you're pretty happy here. I'm glad, I really am." He reached up and ran his fingers along his brother's eyebrow, down his cheek and across his lips. "Have you... have you ever seen anyone? A guy or someone..." He wasn't sure why he was even asking because either answer would be brutal.

Clenching his jaw, Dean looked to the side and shook his head. "Sam... when I said I waited for you for ten years... I... I meant that literally," he bit his lip and stared down at the space between their bodies. "I haven't been with anyone since you were taken from me," he whispered the words, face heating with color. "And I mean that, in every sense of the words. This place... I teach and when I'm not teaching I'm searching for you. That's all I do. All I've done, for the past ten years," he shrugged and looked at his brother from under his eye lashes.

"Fuck." Their lives couldn't have gone in two such different directions; it was like everything was turned upside down from that moment they were pulled apart. "You've not ... ten years. I've ... I've..." Sam's mouth hung open for a few moments then snapped shut.

"Yeah I know, who would have thought Dean Winchester could keep it in his pants for ten years?" He laughed humorlessly and shook his head. "I tried once or twice. To kiss someone... first time made me puke. Second time I punched the guy so then I just didn't bother." He lifted his eyes slowly to scan his brother's features. "Have there... have you been with... many... people?" It hurt to even get the words out but some twisted part of him wanted to know, _needed_ to know.

Sam blew out a breath, "yeah... I've... I.. Why'd you punch the guy?" Sam slid his hands up over Dean's hips. Suddenly all those faces and people seemed like a trail of mistakes.

Dean's heart did that familiar clenching thing and he shrugged. "Guy said the wrong thing, wrong time. He was a douche and had it coming," shifting back slightly he forced a smile onto his lips. "I really should call Mr. Alexander, the school dean, he's going to need some time to find someone to cover the classes." He pushed up off Sam's lap and stumbled for a moment, regaining his footing and heading for the table where his cell phone still sat.

Climbing up off the floor Sam sat back on the edge of the couch watching his brother move about the room. Dean was more confident now that he was older and there was a deliberateness in every movement he made. But then, Sam could watch Dean all night and not tire of it. He figured, things were about to explode in so many different directions - when they got to _their_ father - he might as well enjoy this while it lasted. If John had lied to him, taken away the one thing he loved more than anything and in trade given him ten years of fucking strangers in bars and hunting things he could kill just so he didn't kill himself; if that's what his father he done - well - Sam didn't know what would happen.

Mr. Alexander was more than understanding of Dean's situation. Then again, Dean had never even asked for a sick day off before so he had some time built up, the short notice was merely a minor setback. When he'd assured the man he'd call with news, he turned back to Sam and snapped his phone shut. "All set," he pursed his lips and looked around his living room. "Did you want something to eat or drink? I have leftover pizza and beer."

"Your car..." Sam pushed up off the couch, "I could walk back and get it for you. I kinda freaked out on your earlier." Sam shook his head and smiled, "was a rough night and ... so much... well..." his voice trailed off. "Dean, listen..." Sam walked over and grabbed his brother's wrist, "I don't know what we're doing here - you and I - but," he frowned and dragged his thumb across his bottom lip, "I'm not your Sammy anymore. That kid... I haven't been that kid for a long time."

"I don't need you to be that kid," Dean said softly and looked around the apartment, not able to meet Sam's eyes. "You're still my brother. I know you're different but I still love you. I've held on to that for so long. I can't let it go now. It's not... it's not something I'm ever going to stop feeling." Finally he dragged his eyes up to Sam's and reached up to cup his cheek. "I just hope one day you'll feel..." he broke off and dropped his hand, stepping away. "I can walk to my car, I know some short cuts. You can come along if you want."

"Okay, I could use some smokes anyway." When Dean looked a little surprised Sam shrugged again. "What? I used to only smoke when I drank but I probably shouldn't be drunk... here." He picked up his jacket and headed for the door. "Show me these short cuts."


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm gonna make some pasta," Dean announced as they stepped back in his apartment, kicking off his shoes and tossing his keys on the table. It was incredibly wonderful to have Sam back with him but there was still that tension, almost as if both were too afraid to get to know each other in case things with John went south in a major way. "You still like Alfredo sauce?" He asked over his shoulder at Sam before reaching into a cabinet and pulling out a giant pan, setting it in the sink. His lips were still tingling even though it had taken almost an hour and a half to walk to his car, pick up cigarettes and drive back. More than anything he would have loved to pull Sam into the kitchen with him, to have Sam rub up against his body like he did when they were just beginning this love. Like the time Dean had to drag him out of the house, throw him into the Impala and drive him out to the middle of the woods. Dean chuckled at the memory fondly as turned on the faucet.

"What are you laughing about?" Sam padded into the kitchen and leaned his hip against the counter beside his brother. "You're cooking, cooking shouldn't be funny." He smiled and tilted his head then flipped his hair back out of his eyes. Dean's smile was... sexy. Sam was in so much trouble.

Turning off the faucet and picking up the pan to set on the burner, Dean waited until the fire was on before turning to look at Sam. "I was just remembering that one time when I dragged your ass to the middle of the woods and you thought I was going to leave you there," he smiled softly and dropped his eyes, enjoying the way the memory flushed over him pleasantly. "You used to be all over me back then."

"Dude I was fourteen, a fourteen year old would be all over anyo..." Sam grimaced. "You know, there's something you should know about me. I spend all my time driving around and... and... and killing shit. I don't talk to people unless I have to so the odds of me putting my foot in my mouth when I _do_ speak are really high." He shrugged a shoulder and stepped closer. "I seem to remember it taking me a long time to convince you ... to do more. I had to be dedicated to get what I wanted." Something skittered around in Sam's mind not unlike guilt. Maybe if he'd never convinced Dean...

"I wanted it too, more then you could ever know," he smiled at Sam softly, shrugging off the other comment as one of those things Sam would say that would stab at his heart unknowingly and he'd never address it. "I was always thinking if I held off you'd stop wanting it, you'd get interested in a girl at school or something and I could go on having these sick perverse thoughts myself," Dean shrugged and stared at the pot of water even if that meant it would never boil. "I guess I was always trying to protect you and in the end I was the one who hurt you most. Irony at its core."

"It maybe wasn't you - we haven't established that yet." Sam looked up at Dean with wide eyes, "I mean, I haven't. I guess." Sam sighed, "I think things were going better when we weren't talking. Maybe we could do some more not talking after dinner." Grabbing Dean's back pocket Sam pulled his hip straight to his crotch and leaned down quickly to bite at his brother's neck. He just couldn't take it anymore. The fumbling words and everything that was hanging there unsaid. Hands fisting Dean's shirt he dragged his brother back away from the stove and pushed him back against the counter. "You haven't fucked anyone for ten years," he growled against Dean's neck, "doesn't that mean you want this... pretty bad?"

Swallowing hard, Dean's head tilted back and his hand fell to Sam's waist, pushing back slightly. "I do. I want it really fucking bad, you have no idea," he shook his head and slid away from Sam, grabbing the box of pasta and dumping it into the water. "I just have this feeling that it would be a very unwise thing to do at this point in time. You don't even believe me," his voice dropped low, heart thudding in his chest. "I might regret it later, but I'd rather... wait."

"I think you will regret it." Sam didn't mean for his voice to sound as cold as it did. He walked over and pressed his body up against Dean's back and slid his hands around the man's waist. "So," he murmured against Dean's ear, "back to talking then."

Dean's shoulders tensed and he nudged Sam back slightly. "I think you should go over there. I... after last night my brain seriously can only handle so much with you so near and I don't think you want me shutting off like that again." He rested the urge to add _or maybe that's exactly what you want_. Dean knew he didn't know his brother any more but struggling to accept that was really beginning to tear him to shreds. "This will be ready in a few minutes."

Dean’s words stung and Sam stepped away to grab his cigarettes off the counter. "Can I smoke in here or should I go outside?" He knew he was all over the place. He _knew_ it like you know you're alive when you wake up in the morning, like you know you'll breathe in another breath when you exhale. There was this voice inside of him, telling him to just get all over Dean and _have_ him. Get it over with -because- _Jesus Christ_ if it turned out John was telling the truth there wouldn't be a snowball's chance in hell that Sam would touch his brother. Besides - it had always worked out better for him, the _touching_ rather than speaking. Funny, when he was a kid, it was Sam who never shut up.

"I can't believe you smoke," Dean looked over at Sam. "And that your father lets you. How very... well fuck, I don't know him at all so I guess I can't say it's unlike him." Dean shrugged and gestured to the window. "Just open that, then I don't care." He turned the fire off under the pot and carried it to the sink, emptying the contents and running them under cold water. Dean hated how everything between them seemed to crack and sizzle not in a good way and he wished there was an easy fix he just hadn't thought of yet. "So I have coke. Since you said you didn't want to drink," he glanced over at Sam before looking away just as quick.

"Whatever," Sam pulled out a cigarette, lit it and held it in his mouth while he yanked on the window until it opened. He snagged the closest chair with his foot and pulled it over so he could dangle the cigarette out. "You know I'm twenty-six now right? So it really doesn't matter too much what _Dad_ thinks about me smoking. Is that what this is all about? You still think I'm sixteen?" Sam grinned to himself and took a long drag on his cigarette then blew the smoke out the window. "Old and disillusioned," he murmured under his breath, "that's me."

Turning his gaze to Sam, Dean shook his head, "I'm pretty well aware that you're not sixteen anymore." He pursed his lips and stirred the sauce over the pasta for a long minute before tilting the pot over two bowls and serving some up. He grabbed two cans of coke from the fridge and tucked them under his arm before carrying the bowls over. "Can I ask you a question Sam?" He asked softly, sliding one bowl and a coke toward Sam and settling into his own chair.

Sam pinched his cigarette out and stuck it back in his pack then turned around and pulled his chair over closer to the table. "Yeah... sure." His fingers wrapped around the cool can and moved slowly through the condensation for a few moments before he looked up at his brother.

Dean ate quiet for a few minutes before looking over at his brother and sighing, looking back down at his food. "Do you wish I'd never done any of those things?" He whispered, stabbing at the pasta. "Do you wish that I had just settled with being your brother and never talked you into more?"

Sam's brow furrowed for a few moments then he pulled his bowl closer. "I talked _you_ into more," was all he could say without making things take a direction he didn't want to go. A muscle in his jaw started twitching and he rubbed at it with the heel of his hand.

"I think you might just see it differently," Dean shook his head. "You may have done the first initial kissing but I'm the one who went back to you, who basically talked you into it..." He shrugged and looked away. "Just forget I said anything. Eat something or..." Dean scrubbed at the back of his neck and tucked himself into his meal. He really needed to stop talking; clearly this Sam was not interested in these types of conversations.

"What do you want from me? You want me to give you some handy reason for why I'm obviously not the person you expected me to be? Or maybe you just wanted to flay yourself a bit more by being the _one_ who's responsible for this? What fuckin' difference does it make who touched who first? We screwed up Dean, I was a kid and I didn’t know better and Dad was never around so he didn't even have a chance to stop us." Sam looked down at his food. "You want me to tell you that I'm happy about the way things turned out? No, Dean, I'm not. I lost my older brother at a time when I needed him the most and I think that probably made me what I am today. So yeah, Dean, I wish we'd just been brothers and not..." Sam shook his head. Losing the one man he loved more than anything in the world was the worst feeling Sam had ever experienced. There would never be anyone again like Dean was to him. _Never_. "I left something... some part of me back at that house when we left. And it's gone... and ... it's just gone." Sam's hands were clenched into fists.

Dean's heart squeezed in his chest, stomach churning uncomfortably. He pushed the bowl away from him and stood from the table, forcing himself to nod. "I'm sorry," he whispered because it seemed like the only thing he could say. That horrible truth laid out in front of him like a slap of realization and his heart felt a little like it was breaking. "It was never that way for me," he said softly and carried his bowl into kitchen, dropping it in the sink. "But thank you for being honest with me. It's good that I know. I'm just going to watch some TV now," he walked shakily to the couch and dropped down, ready to be done with this conversation before his heart literally exploded in his chest.

Sam sat at the table shaking for about a minute before something inside him snapped. His arm swept sideways and shot the bowl, the food and the coke can flying off the table. "What do you _want_ from me?" His voice was raised, loud in the small room. "You just, you keep apologizing and asking me stupid questions," standing up he kicked his chair back and it slammed into the wall. "What you want to know if I still love you? I don't love _anything_ because... because... I loved you for the first half of my fuckin' life and then you left and I spent the next half of my life knowing you thought I was some filthy piece of shit you just couldn't wait to get away from." He leaned back against the wall, hands trembling at his sides. "It was the _only_ good thing I had - and now you're taking it away from me - saying that... saying that you made it happen. I _want_ you..." Sam's voice faltered, "I _wanted_ you. It wasn't just you. I was old enough to know that I was in love with you, Dean. And now, you're ... you're..." The anger left Sam's body in a matter of moments and he slid down the wall to sit on the floor, panting, heart crashing around in his chest.

Lifting his eyes to Sam, Dean blinked a few times before looking away. "Jesus Sam how the hell did you expect me to be? You seem to forget that I've suffered too. You got wrenched from my life and I had to be the one to say it because there was a fucking gun to my back. I've spent all this time looking for you and I always thought you'd come and find me. It's why I stayed in this apartment, and I've _never_ stopped loving you or wanting you or feeling like I'm the reason I have _no one_." Dean swiped angrily at the tears on his cheeks and pushed up. "I can be the strong one for us but I need a certain level of hope that I'm still fighting for something."

"Hope?" Sam blinked a few times then ran his hand through his hair and pushed up off the floor and bent over to start to picking up the pieces of pasta off the floor. "What kind of hope do you want?" Sam's voice was softer. What he really wanted to do was wrap his arms around his brother and soothe away whatever messed up thing was hurting him so badly. He knew Dean didn't want him near him, he'd said so, and it was the worst kind of feeling. It hurt like a knife right through his chest.

"That you're going to believe me," Dean shifted forward, watching Sam with wary eyes. "You're all I've got Sam. If you don't believe me... if you send me away after all this... I just don't know if I can handle that. And every part of me just wants to _be_ with you and kiss you and show you that things can be okay again. I hate that you're hurting like you are almost as much as I hate that there's nothing I can do to make it better." He sighed softly and shook his head, "Sam will you just come over here for a minute? Let me hold you?"

Sam straightened up and put the bowl on the table dropping the pasta into it then wiped his hands on his jeans. He watched out the window for a few moments then walked slowly over to where Dean was sitting and dropped down to kneel in front of his brother. It was like slow motion. As gruff and hard as Sam seemed he was terrified every moment that Dean was going to push him away. He slid his hands up his brother's thighs and pushed forward hesitantly between Dean's legs.

With a soft smile Dean shifted forward until his arms could slide easily around Sam's shoulders and he could bring his brother against his chest. "Sam, I know you're not the person I knew before okay? And I can only imagine how hard this all is for you to wrap your mind around, but I'm still here. And I'm not going anywhere unless you tell me too okay?" He leaned forward and rested his forehead against Sam's, eyes falling closed. "I will always love you."

As his hands drifted up across Dean's chest Sam smiled slightly. "Then don't keep pushing me away," he murmured. He rolled his forehead against his brother's and slid his lips across Dean's softly; the warmth of the touch sending sparks down across his shoulders. "Don't keep sayin' no." Eyes closed, Sam breathed in the warm of his brother's breath. "Please, Dean?" Their cheeks slid together and Sam sucked gently on the skin at the bottom of his brother's neck, fingers curling and uncurling in the material of Dean's shirt.

"I'm scared," Dean admitted softly, head shifting back to grant Sam more room. His hands on Sam's back curled together and he shifted forward, wanting to be closer to Sam.

Swallowing, Sam placed a tender kiss on his brother's neck. "Okay..." He slipped his arms around Dean's waist and pulled up as close to him as he could. "Maybe it can be okay ... somehow..." He just pulled in lung full after lung full of Dean's familiar scent and smiled against his brother's neck. "I'm sorry for the things I said." Sam's heart was so full it was aching.

"I wanted you to be honest," Dean whispered and pulled back, meeting Sam's eyes. "God Sammy," he wet his lips and leaned down, capturing his brother's lips against his own in a soft slide of lips. His hands came up to come along his head, tilting him back slightly so his tongue could slid forward to trace along Sam's lips. After a moment he pulled back and smiled softly, "Okay. I'm not going to push you away any more. I'm just gonna take what I can."

Sam remembered that smile, remembered the tenderness of his brother's gentle kisses; it flooded through him taking the edge of the hurt as it went. It reminded him that what he'd had all those years ago was real. Leaning in Sam sucked Dean's bottom lip into his mouth and swept his tongue along it marvelling at how much it felt like _coming home_. He shifted forward again to close the last of the distance between them and tightened his hold on Dean then slanted his mouth over Dean's and plunged his tongue into the stunning heat. He heart flipped in his chest then raced like he was terrified, _shit_ , he was terrified but it was a _good_ terrified.

Moaning at the invasion of Sam's tongue into his mouth, Dean pressed flush against his brother's body, sucking on his tongue eagerly. His fingers slid around to curl in Sam's hair, tugging sharply he arched his brother's body back to deepen the kiss, thrusting his tongue along Sam's and shoving roughly into his mouth. Even though they seemed to be all over the place, it comforted Dean to know they could come back to this place. This was familiar and warm, comforting, made the ache in his heart soothe with each stroke of his brother's tongue along his. "Can we," Dean murmured into the kiss, free hand working the crook of Sam's neck, "lay down? In bed?" He pulled back and bit down on his lip, scanning Sam's features.

Breathing shallow and hard Sam nodded and pushed up to his feet dragging Dean with him and pulling him up to slide against his body. Groaning quietly Sam's hands slid around to settle on his brother's back, kneading the muscle, claiming his flesh. He tugged, stepping back toward the bedroom lips moving against Dean's cheeks, sucking a path down his chiselled jaw then capturing his lips again. Sam held back, gentle, soft, wanting to show Dean the only way he know how, that he could still feel what they felt so long ago.

"Oh god," Dean gasped as he stumbled backward to the bed. His body was alive with the touch, heat coursing through him so quickly he could feel his cock almost instantly filling. Too long without touch and the whole _everything_ of the past twenty four hours was really starting to wear him thin. "Feels so good," he whispered before tugging Sam's head up with clenched fingers in his hair, slanting their lips together once more and shoving his tongue forward. The back of his calves bumped into the bed and he fell backward, groaning into the kiss as Sam came crashing down with him, landing heavily on his chest. He could feel the man try to shift back to give him room and he tightened his grip, whimpering into the kiss to pull him closer still.

The noises Dean made traveled down Sam's body like an electric charge settling in his hips and sending heat rushing to his cock. Dragging his lips back from Dean's he smiled and rubbed his thumb across his brother's cheek, "you're shaking." He dipped down and kissed the corner of Dean's mouth and slid as far to the side as Dean would let him. "It's gonna be okay," he whispered against his brother's ear. The scent of his brother's hair was sweet and warm, it made Sam's eyes water just a little and he nuzzled into the crook of Dean's neck. His lips moved gently against his brother's neck; licking, sucking, kissing, _caring._

Dean moaned softly and shifted them further up the bed, hands dipping down to curl on the hem of Sam's shirt, pushing up so he could touch mostly smooth flesh. "I want you," he whispered and began working at the buttons along his shirt, dipping his hands inside to rest on his chest the moment all the buttons were free. His fingers grazed along Sam's nipples for a moment before pushing up to his shoulders, urging the material off. "Your skin is burning," he breathed, meeting Sam's eyes for a moment before leaning in for a soft brush of lips. Already he felt more alive than he could remember feeling in a long time. The difference between last night and now was almost tangible and he shoved harder at Sam's shirt, desperate to feel their flesh together.

Rolling slightly Sam pulled his arms free from his shirt then grabbed the front of Dean's shirt and yanked him up off the bed, "get it off." Pushing his hands up Dean's belly, across his chest he slid the material up until Dean reached down and yanked the shirt up over his head. Sam's eyes softened as his fingers moved over his brother's flawless skin; sun-kissed and freckled. Smiling he pressed Dean back down onto the mattress and held himself over his brother's body for a few moments. Sam's lips moved warm and soft over Dean's face, the freckles, down his neck and across his collar bone. Lowering his weight slowly he pushed his leg between Dean's rubbing his body up the length of his brother's then back down to roll their hips together gently.

Head falling back with a moan, Dean arched his body up into Sam's, curling his hands around Sam's arms and sliding up to his neck. "God you've gotten so..." he wet his lips and dropped his hands between their bodies, tracing along the curve of Sam's chest. "Filled out." He chuckled softly and rolled his hips again and let his fingers settle on Sam's waistline, working the button between his fingers. "Off," he urged, lifting his gaze to Sam's, silently checking to ensure this was okay.

Sam rolled over on his back; smiling, tucked his arms behind his head and peer over at Dean. "Undress me." His voice was firm, thick and _God_ he was turned on. Seeing Dean so worked up, flushed, shaking was the hottest things he'd seen since... well, since he was sixteen. "Do it..." he shifted his hips slowly and arched an eyebrow at his brother.

"Jesus," Dean moaned and rolled into his side, sliding his fingers down Sam's chest, tracing new curves and lines he'd never seen before, as if every part of Sam was something new for him to learn. Leaning in, he sucked a patch of skin just below Sam's nipple, working his mouth up as his fingers grazed against denim. As he sucked Sam's nipple into his mouth he finished working the button from its clasp, dragging the zipper down impossibly slow. Pulling back, Dean let his eyes settle on Sam's face as he rolled up and tugged the jeans roughly down, crawling back to slide them off Sam's long legs and tossing them across the room. Sam's already hard length was tenting up his boxers and Dean swallowed, wondering just how much bigger Sam had gotten down _there_ since sixteen. Biting down on his lip he crawled back up and tugged at the elastic on the boxers, letting his gaze settle on the flesh as it slowly came into view with each inch of cotton he dragged down. "Jesus you're fuckin' huge," he breathed and let his eyes shoot up, grinning wide at his brother.

Huffing out a short laugh Sam rolled his hips up under Dean, "I'm proportionate," he growled out, "hurry up want your lips again." Sam couldn't get enough of those lips, they were everything he remembered. _Real_. He let his lashes fall to his cheeks and his head fall to the side as he soaked up the heat from his brother's body. Dean moved lithely over him, pulling his boxers down teasingly.

"My lips huh?" Dean chuckled and let his lips graze along the skin inside Sam's legs as he finally dragged Sam's boxers the rest of the way down, tugging them off and sending them to join his jeans across the room. He crawled back up Sam's body, falling to the side and dragging Sam over him to brush their lips together. His tongue thrust forward into Sam's mouth, swirling in small circles before brushing along Sam's tongue slowly. He moaned into the kiss and pressed his hand flat into Sam's chest, sliding down until he could curl his fingers along the base of Sam's heavy aching flesh, stroking up slowly to measure the full length of him. _Christ_.

Laughing low, deep, gravelly, Sam held his brother's shoulders for a moment and pressed him down hard into the mattress. "Want to just look at me for a while?" He was grinning when he ducked down to lick his way back into Dean's mouth, tongue thrusting in and taking over. One large hand moved up to anchor in Dean's hair so he could yank the other man's head back and bite down his throat. " _Fuck_ you taste good." It took a few deep breaths for Sam's head to stop spinning. Crawling back away from Dean he took a deep breath, "get up and get undressed, I'll be right back." Pushing up off the bed Sam disappeared through the door. When he reappeared he folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe. "Was I too quick? I asked you to get undressed." He arched an eyebrow at his brother, smiling.

With a faint chuckle Dean climbed off the bed and locked his eyes with Sam's as his fingers tucked into the waistline of his jeans, popping the button open. A slow grin worked its way up his lips as he dragged the zipper down and shimmied out of the jeans, letting them fall to the floor and stepping out of them. His eyes fluttered slightly as he rubbed the crotch of his boxers with his palm before lifting the elastic of his boxers and pushed them down, stepping out of them. "Satisfied?" He asked as he climbed onto the bed and spread out, tucking his arms beneath his head.

"Nowhere near satisfied," Sam growled as he moved quickly to the bed. He dropped a condom and some lube on the nightstand and rolled back on to the bed. Shifting over he settled himself along Dean's side ducking his head to kiss down the underside of his arm then leaning in to catch his mouth again. It was a heated kiss; Sam threw his weight against it, crushing Dean's mouth with his. Tongue thrusting, he reclaimed every curve and line, every surface of his brother's mouth. The moans, the soft amazing sounds that his brother made sent his lust spiralling out of control. "Dean," he murmured against his brother's mouth, "wanna come.. inside you, wanna fuck you..." He slid his hand around his brother's throat, pinning him down to the mattress and kissing him hard, savagely, sucking the other man's tongue deep into his mouth.

Tension worked through him for a moment and Dean struggled with it for a moment, pulling back, he stared into Sam's eyes. "You wanna..." Dean swallowed hard a few times and shifted beneath Sam's heavy weight. His heart was racing in his chest and he caught his lower lip between his teeth. "I've never..." he trailed off, knowing Sam would know exactly what he'd never done. And Sam was so _huge_.

Sam's brow furrowed for a few moments then his expression softened, "I ... I'm sorry, it's okay." _Idiot_. Sam's world was so different, strangers in bars, quick messy fumblings against the back fender of his car. Shifting once more he lay along Dean's side and slid his hand down over his brother's belly and through the curls at the base of his shaft. His lips moved to the shell of Dean's ear. "Don't worry, plenty of time..." he rumbled deep in his chest. The heat radiating from his brother's cock reached Sam’s fingers before they curled around the rigid flesh. Growling softly against Dean's ear Sam's fingers slid up his brother's shaft closing tight over the head for a few moments, thumb riding the ridge before sending his fist back down to the base.

The thing was, Dean didn't _know_ that they had plenty of time. He had no idea how things would go when they met John and suddenly the idea of not having Sam with him was just too much. "I want it," he turned to Sam, rolling his way and crushing their lips together. He curled his fingers in Sam's chest, sliding down until he could once more run his fingers along the thick line of Sam's arousal. "I want you to... fuck me," he murmured into Sam's lips.

Sam gasped in a breath then moaned as he threw his arms around his brother and crushed him against his chest. Pushing up off the bed with one foot Sam slid their cocks together, the heated skin sent darts of pleasure racing around in his bloodstream. He rolled Dean back, slid his hand down his brother's chest and stared into his glass green eyes. "Roll over," he said softly as he nudged his brother's hip with his knee.

Pulling in a quick breath Dean rolled to lie on his stomach, trying to calm the swell of nerves coursing through him. He wondered if Sam was this nervous his first time, when Dean was the one on top. Of course Sam had practically begged for it, had told Dean about fucking himself with his fingers. Dean had never even done that. "Do you ever bottom?" He asked into the pillow, stretching his arms high above his head, feet pointing down as he extended his body the full length of the bed.

Watching as his brother stretched, muscles rippling and twitching Sam's eyes widened. "No," Sam's voice was soft, "I don't ... do that ... anymore." It filled Sam with an aching kind of sadness. He just wasn't sure if he'd ever trust anyone that way again, with _everything._ Dean was the only one. Sam would give anything to wipe away all these years in between them.

As his eyes moved over Dean's body he could feel the tension radiating off of him. It tugged at him, some place in him that he's closed off from everyone years ago. "Relax," Sam soothed as his rough hands moved over Dean's back. He massaged the tension filled muscles in his brother's neck and shoulders, leaning down every-so-often to pepper tiny kisses along the back of Dean's neck. Splayed fingers ran over the hills and valleys of his brother's body, kneading and working the knots.

"Mmm," Dean moaned and rocked his body up into the touch, enjoying the way his cock slid in counter action against the bed sheets. "Feels good," he turned his head to the side and looked down to try and peer at Sam. As the hands drifted lower his breath hitched again and he twisted his hands to spread along the sheet. "Just go slow," he murmured and shifted his hips up once more, anticipation beginning to coil around the nerves and cover them. The idea of being connected with Sam again, on this level, was beginning to send a sharp jolt of thrill through him.

Reaching out Sam grabbed the lube off the night stand and flipped it open squeezing some into his palm. He pushed Dean's thighs apart gently straddling one of his brother's legs. Rubbing the lube onto his fingers he wiped his palm on the quilt and settled it on his brother's ass, squeezing gently then slipping his lubed finger along the crevice. Pushing down and finding the puckered entrance, Sam sucked in a sharp breath and covered it with lube. Leaning down he kissed the small of Dean's back, dragging his tongue across it briefly. "You alright?"

"Yes," Dean nodded and bit down hard on his lip, shifting his hips down into Sam's touch. Every part of him seemed to spiral with pleasure, all radiating from Sam's finger sliding along such sensitive skin. "Do it," he murmured, suddenly curious as to how this would feel, what Sam's finger buried in him would feel like. His hips rolled down into the mattress, stirring up the pleasure to cover the lingering nerves.

Sam's heart swelled in his chest and his breath hitched. He pushed his finger against Dean's tight muscle as he slid his other hand down across his ass to his hip so he could pull his brother's hips up off the mattress slightly. His finger slipped inside, the silky hole was fiery and tight as his other hand slid underneath Dean's hip and wrapped around his cock. Working Dean's cock slowly Sam pushed his finger gently, twisting it, letting the man's body grow accustomed to the intrusion. When he felt the give, heard his brother's quiet moan he pushed in further.

It burned but not as unpleasantly as he thought it would. "Sammy," he murmured and arched his body, curving it down into Sam's finger and up into his grasp. Already it felt like he was coming apart under the touch and he wanted more. "Nother one," he mumbled into his pillow, fingers curling into the sheets, heart slamming into his chest.

Squeezing his brother's cock gently, thumbing the weeping head Sam slid another finger inside his brother. He could feel Dean's muscles clench around his digits as his eyes moved over the man's back and rippling muscles. He waited, eyes closed, hand working Dean's swollen shaft. Sam's eyes darted up to Dean's face just visible, rosy cheeks, swollen lips and a moan worked its way out of his broad chest. "So.. gorgeous like this... _fuck_ Dean..." Falling down quickly he bit hard on his brother's back and slid his fingers all the way inside him. He could see his brother's muscles tense and watch them slowly ripple, flutter and relax. It was _so_ hot, _so_ amazing. _Dean_. Beginning to move his fingers Sam fucked his brother open, stretching his tight hole. Dean's cock swelled full and heavy in his brother's hand and Sam felt his own cock twitch and jolt.

As he adjusted to the second burn, that was more painful than the first, Dean could feel his muscles tighten then release, rippling pleasure through him. "Oh shit," he gasped as the tip of Sam's fingers brushed along something in him, his prostate, just the faintest little touch and he was seeing stars. Maybe it had simply been too long since anyone had touched him, since _Sam_ had touched him, but Dean was really starting to doubt his ability to keep this up. He was going to come into Sam's hand and then they'd be done before they even started. "Sammy, gotta stop touching me... I'm gonna come if you don't," he mumbled into the pillow and arched his ass up into Sam's fingers.

"You say that like it's a _bad_ thing," Sam's voice was thick and rich with lust. He laughed softly as he pushed a third finger inside his brother's tight heat. The way Dean arched up onto his fingers sent waves of pleasure through Sam's body. Hooking his fingers slightly Sam found that little bundle of nerves again brushing it gently and watching his brother writhe beneath him. Watching Dean that way Sam felt like he would come right there, it was _sexy_ , raw, open. Sam withdrew his fingers and snatched up the condom, tearing it open with his teeth and rolling it down his shaft quickly. Squirting more lube on the condom he wiped his palms on the sheets, grabbed Dean's hips and rolled him onto his side. Sam curled his body behind Dean's and rested his chin on his brother's shoulder, "better for you this way," he murmured. He couldn't take it any longer - his heart was beating right out of his chest. Guiding his cock with his hand, Sam pushed against his brother's entrance gently, rubbing the head of his cock back and forth slowly and moaning at the contact. Sliding his arm under Dean's Sam pressed his brother's chest with his palm and pushed the head of his cock inside. "Jesus _Christ_ , Dean..." His brother was so tight, so hot that even with the condom on Sam could feel his orgasm building within him. He stilled, fighting it back and slipping his free hand over Dean's hip to fist his weeping shaft.

The position was not lost on Dean, though he wondered if Sam remembered. Dean could never possibly forget. Curling his arm behind him and tangling his hand in Sam's hair, he mumbled, "This was how we..." the words broke off in a groan which morphed into a hiss as Sam's cock stretched his muscles further apart then he thought possible. This burn was completely different, like he was being split open, completely and totally consumed. "Oh fuck," he moaned and arched back into his brother, instantly pulling him in a few more inches. Panting heavily, he willed his body to relax enough to take all of Sam in. He wanted to bask in the utter completeness of their connection and his fingers still in Sam's hair tugged.

Sam mouthed his brother's neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive flesh. Of course he remembered it, _of course_ , every fibre of Sam's body remembered the feel of Dean inside him and the way his hands had moved over Sam's body. Sam gasped out a half moan, half cry as Dean's fist tightened in his hair. His brother's body drew him in and Sam almost had to hold his _fuckin'_ breath just to hold back and not thrust into Dean like their lives depended on it. "Tell me..." he growled as his rough palm squeezed his brother's cock gently, feeling it swell again as Dean's pain faded, "tell me when..."

"Go," Dean insisted, rocking his hips in slow circles, sliding up and pushing down. It only got him a few sparks of pleasure, not enough room for him to move the way he wanted and needed. "Fuck Sam I want you to..." he loosened his hand and let it slide down, falling behind him to curl around his hip bone, pushing at him. "Fuck me," he finished off with a moan, clenching his muscles around Sam as the burn gave way to being utterly full and complete.

Hand sliding back to grip Dean's hip, Sam thrust all the way into his brother. The way Dean's muscles clenched around him, the moans, the _fucking_ gorgeous sounds that were falling from his brother's lips sent Sam's control spinning away. It was slow at first, almost tender, Sam's cock slid in to his brother, slick and warm, then he moaned, he drew back then pushed forward. "Dean, it's ... _fuck_." Sam's voice was hardly above a whisper and his hips snapped forwards as he loosened his grip on Dean's hip. "I can't..." Sam's hips started to rock, forward and back, faster, thrusting hard into Dean's ass. It felt amazing; better than anything else ever had. His brother just opened up to him, gave in and Sam sank his teeth into Dean's shoulder as he reached around and ran his thumb and fingers up and down his brother's weeping cock.

"Oh fuck Sam," Dean pressed up against Sam as much as possibly, as if he could completely melt into him if he just tried hard enough. It felt like every part of his body was sparking with electricity and he'd _never_ been so intensely aroused and close to the edge as he was in this moment. There was no way he was going to last but his body thrummed with the idea of having more as soon as they were able. "So close," he moaned loudly and dropped his hand down to his crotch, twining his fingers with Sam's and curling them over his cock to make the role reversal complete, an odd sense of wonderful irony and pleasure. "Need it Sammy," he moaned once more and rolled his hips down into his brother's hard.

Sam could feel his orgasm swelling deep within him, his rhythm faltered and his hips rocked against his brother's ass. Stretching up he moaned against his brother's ear, sucking his earlobe quickly then whispering, "come with me." It felt like he was falling apart one thrust at a time, the heat, and the muscles fluttering deep within his brother. Sam canted his hips, trying to find the right angle to hit that pleasure center once more - send Dean over the edge with him. "Gonna come..." he whispered, breath hot and moist against his brother's ear. His hips snapped forward one last time, fingers twined with Dean's still working his brother's cock; Sam's orgasm tore through him, rocking his vision, every muscle tightening and each breath becoming a gasp as his cock pulsed and throbbed.

The only thought Dean had before he came was how he wished he could _feel_ his brother's come filling him. Then he lost all control on his senses and his hips jerked erratically up as his orgasm tore through him. His muscles clenched tightly around Sam's cock as wave after wave of pleasure shot through him, eyes slamming shut. "Sammy," he moaned loudly and finally collapsed back into Sam's body, turning as much as he could to try and look at the pleasure on his face. "Kiss me," he panted, pleaded, practically _begged_ for his brother's lips.

Pushing up on his elbow Sam caught his brother's mouth with his. He moaned into the kiss softly; mouth moving ceaselessly, tongue gliding over Dean's lips and settling between them to slide inside his mouth once more. Sam's body moved slowly against his brother's as he rode the waves of his release. Throat feeling tight and chest aching Sam withdrew slowly from his brother broke the kiss and buried his face in his brother's neck. Sam's arms snaked around Dean and tightened; he never wanted to let him go again.

Wrapping his arms around him tightly, Dean smoothed a hand through Sam's hair, pressing a kiss to his brother's temple. "God Sammy," he whispered, eyes falling closed as he hummed pleasantly. His body felt like a weight had been lifted, like he was suddenly a thousand times lighter. There was still a moment in which is heart clenched but he shoved that away roughly. Right now he was content on focusing on them and this moment. "That was amazing."

Nodding, not trusting his voice Sam rolled onto his back, pulled the condom off, knotted it and dropped it on the floor. He grabbed Dean, pulling him over onto his chest willing him to hear all the things his heart was beating out. Burying his nose in his brother's hair he breathed in deeply and then let out a long sigh.

Dean settled in along Sam's chest, shifting his head until his ear rested right above Sam's heart. Fingers grazing his waistline, Dean murmured soft nothing's for a few minutes before letting his eyes drift closed. "You'll stay with me?" He asked quietly, wondering how Sam was feeling on the whole subject.

Sam hand curled up over Dean's neck. "M'not goin' anywhere," he murmured into his brother's hair. Reaching down Sam grabbed the quilt and pulled it up over them both. Smiling he felt Dean's body relaxing into him, just like he'd always fit there. _Never left_.

Sam listened to his brother's breathing deepen and even out as time passed. "Dean?" he whispered. _Nothing_. Sam shifted, kissed Dean's forehead and then got comfortable. "Dean... I love you," he whispered to his sleeping brother. "I always loved you. I know you're telling me the truth." Sam tightened his arm around Dean's shoulders as his breath hitched in his chest. "D..Don't leave me again, please..." his voice trailed away to nothing and he closed his eyes against the ache of tears.

Not saying anything, Dean felt his heart kick start and he shifted slightly as if he were really asleep. _Not going anywhere_ , he thought and turned his head into Sam's body, breathing in his scent until sleep really did pull him under.


	6. Chapter 6

When Dean woke he felt pleasant and more relaxed then he had in years, even with the slight ache along his ass. He smiled down at Sam for a long while, stroking a hand through his hair before shifting up to press a kiss to the side of his mouth. Sliding off the bed silently, Dean stretched for a long minute before padding to his dresser and pulling out a fresh pair of boxers. He didn't know what time they would be getting on the road but figured they'd need a good meal before the drive. Humming softly he headed to the kitchen, retrieving a frying pan and a few eggs from the fridge. It had been years since he had the opportunity to cook breakfast for someone and he couldn't help chuckling at how very much he wanted to do exactly that.

The first thing Sam did when he woke up was reach out for Dean. It was bizarre. Sam hadn't slept with anyone since his brother left - since his brother was _forced_ to leave. Listening intently he could hear Dean moving around in the kitchen and he smiled. Sam never smiled before two cups of coffee and a few lung fulls of fresh air. Groaning, he rolled over and stretched until he was lying diagonally across the bed. He lay there a few minutes trying to let everything sink in. Everything had changed so fast, one minute he'd been living his life the way he always had; hunting, drinking, eating and sleeping like usual. Now, here he was waking in his brother's bed.

Sam threw the covers back, tugged on his jeans and a t-shirt and padded out into the kitchen. He leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms nervously. "Hey."

With a wide grin Dean turned to Sam and crossed the kitchen, stopping in front of him and leaning up to brush their lips together. "Hey," he said softly and trailed his hand down Sam's shirt. "You're way too over dressed for this party. I'm making omelettes. Still like mushrooms in yours?" His grinned widened as he rubbed his palm against the flat of Sam's belly.

Pressing his lips together Sam smiled, "yeah, mushrooms are good." He caught Dean's hand with his and twined their fingers together. "When we leavin'?" He could feel the anxiety building, the familiar itch he felt in his bones when it was time to _hunt_. The only difference was this time he was hunting the truth.

"Um... after breakfast?" Dean shrugged and stepped back into his brother, free hand coming up to cup around his neck. "You still wanna ride in separate cars? I'll need to check mine over first, make sure I'm good on oil and air in the tires before a road trip." He laced Sam's hair through his fingers, stroking soothingly.

"We can take mine." Sam side-stepped away from his brother and walked further into the kitchen. "Did you make coffee? I could use some." Sam's head was pounding and he wasn't looking forward to the drive. Hours in the car. He massaged the back of his neck and arched his back to stretch it out some more.

Hand hovering in mid air for a moment, Dean blinked a few times before slowly letting his arm fall and clearing his throat. "Yeah, other side of the fridge is the pot. Mugs in the cabinet above," he shifted back to the cutting board and began slicing up mushrooms. "Not sure how you take yours but sugars along the wall and creams in the fridge."

Sam moved about making himself a coffee and took a few a few sips. "S'good," he mumbled. "You nervous?" Sam sniffed and rubbed his eyes. "I'm nervous." He took another sip of coffee. "I'm really fuckin' nervous." Sam's gut was a mess. He could feel the tension in every muscle in his body; He'd learned to have a healthy respect for his Father over the years and he was pretty sure that none of this _talk_ was going to go well. "I'm worried about you... talkin' to Dad."

Sliding the mushrooms into the pan on top of the eggs, Dean nodded slowly and sighed, not looking at Sam until the cutting board was back on the counter. "I'm fucking terrified," Dean admitted quietly, swallowing hard. "Sam, he's not going to be happy to see me. Especially not with you. And I... I've made my peace with the fact that he wants nothing more to do with me but I can't forgive him. I don't want him as part of my life," he dropped his eyes and stepped toward his brother. "Whatever you decide to do... I won't force you. But John Winchester will never be my father again, not in my eyes. So yeah... it's pretty safe to say I'm nervous," he chuckled humourlessly and turned back around to start chopping up peppers for the omelette.

Clearing his throat Sam looked up and waited until Dean looked over at him. "If he ... if he hurts you'll I'll fuckin' kill him." Sam crossed his legs at the ankle and leaned back on the counter. "You're not like you used to be, Dean. Maybe I was wrong, maybe I should do this alone." Sam looked down at his coffee mug.

"I think I need this," Dean said softly and turned to pour the peppers into the omelette then flip it into the pan. Once the other side was cooking he turned to Sam and crossed the kitchen, bracketing a let on either side of Sam's legs and leaning into him. "Besides, if you think I'm letting you disappear from sight now that I've found you again... you're crazy," he chuckled softly and massaged his fingers into Sam's neck. "I don't think he'll try and hurt me with you there. You've changed too, he can't use the same methods again," Dean arched up to brush a kiss along Sam's lips before stepping back and turning to the omelette on the stove, pulling up a plate.

Sam's shoulders dropped a little and he leaned back on the counter. "I'm not gonna lea..." Dropping his eyes to the floor he shrugged. "You and I will stay in touch... no matter what. Now, I mean." Sam's eyes darted up to Dean's face trying to judge his reaction, "for the record."

Wetting his lips, Dean nodded and slid the omelette onto the plate. "So... you think you'll get back on the road once this whole issue with John is... addressed?" He glanced over at Sam before turning and holding out the plate. "Here you go."

"Thanks." Sam's fingers brushed his brothers as he took the plate and it made him smile the way it warmed his skin. "I don't know - hunting," he shrugged a shoulder, "it's all I can do. Never even finished high school after you left. I'm not like you, not good with people." He padded over to the table and sat down watching his brother.

Filling up his mug with a second cup of coffee, Dean leaned back against the counter and nodded slowly. "You could get your GED if you wanted. I could help with that," he smiled softly before moving to the fridge for eggs from himself. "I'm not going to force you into anything though. I know that's pretty much impossible. But you'll always have a place here with me," he kept his eyes fixed on the pan as he began scrambling some eggs.

Something hard pinched in Sam's heart. "You got a whole life here, don't wanna wreck it." He shovelled some omelette into his mouth.

Dean waited until his eggs were finished, dumping them on a plate and carrying them over with his mug. He dropped into the seat beside his brother and reached out to lay his hand on Sam's arm. "Sammy, you _are_ my life. Sure I have the teaching thing but that's it. I don't have friends or anything like that. I don't go out. If you asked me I'd leave this job in a heartbeat for you. So if you were to come here... it would pretty much be the opposite of wrecking my life," he smiled at Sam for a moment before turning to his food.

Pushing his plate back a little, Sam sat back on his chair. Turning his arm he grabbed Dean's arm, _hard_. "I wish I was that guy, Dean. I really do." His fingers rubbed Dean's arm as he stared at them. Closing his eyes Sam pulled back and smiled, "one thing at a time."

Staring down at his plate, Dean nodded and pushed the food away. "I'm gonna go shower. I'll probably be ready to go in about an hour," he smiled briefly at Sam before pushing up and carrying his half eaten food back into the kitchen and tossing it in the trash.

"Dean, I'm trying." Sam's eyes followed the tense line of his brother's back. Last night everything had seemed a lot easier. He could tell by the way Dean moved that he was hurt; Sam had never forgotten the subtle changes in Dean's body as his moods changed. Pushing up from the table Sam was at Dean's back in three long strides. "Listen to me." He leaned over his brother's shoulder, wide hands sliding down Dean's arms to twine their fingers together. "Please, Dean, I'm trying. It's been one day. I want to ... you're." _My heart, you're my heart._ Sighing, Sam pressed his lips to his brother's shoulder. "Please..."

"I know Sam," Dean leaned back into his brother for a moment before turning and curling his arms around Sam's body. "I know you need time. I'm trying to adjust to all this too, so I get it. It's... harder than I thought it was going to be," he sighed softly and pressed a kiss to Sam's neck before pulling back and smiling softly. "I don't want you to feel pressured to make any sort of decision. I mean it when I say I'll take what I can get, even if it is only seeing you once or twice every few months. I'd be okay with whatever decision you make." He let his fingers trace along Sam's cheek for a moment before stepping in to slant their lips together.

It was easy to sink into the kiss this time. The warmth from their night together washed through Sam quickly, taking him right back there and away from all the worry darting through him. He moved his mouth over Dean's tugging the man's hair back to deepen the kiss and try, desperately, to show Dean what he couldn't say. His hand moved restlessly on Dean's back, down his side and settled on his hip so he could curl his fingers over the waistband of his boxers.

Crushing his body into Sam's, Dean clung to his brother, savouring this moment. After a few minutes he broke back and grinned into the kiss, murmuring softly, "Think we have time to take a shower together?" His hands traveled along the length of Sam's body, down to ass and kneading softly as his hips rocked forward to show his obvious interest.

"We can make time ... if you want..." Smiling warmly Sam could feel the heat flooding through his body once more.

Sliding behind the wheel of the Impala with Dean at his side was like a sledgehammer to the side of Sam's head. Memories shot through him and for the first time ever Sam found it difficult to relax behind the wheel. Even when the road was stretched out in front of them, the time when Sam would usually flick on the radio and find a blues station - he was tense. It wasn't one thing in particular; it was everything. Glancing at Dean out the corner of his eye he watched as his brother settled against the front seat. Dean's arm was slung out the open window, his face hard to read except for the slightest tension at the corner of his eyes. Sam huffed out a small laugh; speeding down the highway straight toward the most hellish confrontation imaginable.

"This is crazy," Sam said. His left hand curled over the steering wheel and his right slid along the back of the seat so his fingers could reach for those soft curls. _Sap_.

Chuckling softly, Dean rolled his head toward Sam and shifted slightly on the seat, closer to his brother. "I know. It's... something I never imagined," Dean wet his lips and slid a little closer. "Can I... do you mind?" he gestured to the side of Sam's body, wanting to find comfort in the warmth of Sam's body.

"You're such a girl." He slid his arm down over his brother's shoulder and nodded.

"Not a girl," Dean mumbled even as he settled into Sam's side, draping an arm across Sam's lap. "It feels weird... that I'm smaller then you," he chuckled, curving his fingers into Sam's thigh. He turned into Sam's body, brushing his lips along Sam's skin. "I can drive at any point, if you want."

"Okay, Dean?" Sam shifted his hips, "you can't do that if you're gonna sit there - I'll drive into a tree or somethin'." Swallowing and blowing out a breath Sam smiled and settled back in his seat. Okay, so it was really better than awesome having Dean pressed up against his side. The way their bodies fit together it was like they'd never been apart. "You remember, whatever you do to me while I'm driving can bite you in the ass later when _you're_ drivin'."

Laughing softly, Dean slid his hand up to Sam's chest, curving it into his shirt. "I like how you smell," he buried his nose in Sam's neck and breathed deeply. "Jesus I'm sappy sometimes," he laughed and curled his fingers around Sam's neck. "Thank you," he whispered softly.

Frowning slightly Sam adjusted his hips again. Dean was gonna make this ride long and uncomfortable, at least for certain parts of Sam. "For what?" He leaned forward a little to check an upcoming sign.

Pulling back a little, Dean stared at Sam's profile with just the faintest hint of a grin. "For letting me be here. For giving me a chance," he shrugged and settled back into Sam's side, laying his head down on Sam's shoulder. "I know I wouldn't be able to do this without you."

Feeling that familiar tug of hesitancy Sam huffed. "It's a road trip to see Dad, not a marriage proposal Dean." But ... his fingers stayed right where they were, moving through the silky hair at his brother's temple. Even if it were just for a few days it was worth it and Sam knew that days didn't wipe away years.

Laughing slightly, Dean patted Sam's chest and settled back. "Yeah, yeah... I know, fuckin' sap," he shrugged and turned to starred out the windshield, watching the miles blur passed. "So... when do you estimate us getting there? Some time tomorrow?"

"Yup," Sam could feel his heart rate edging up just thinking about it. "I'll text him tonight get details about where he is. Stuff like that. Do you wonder?" He turned to look out the passenger window briefly and brushed his lips against his brother's temple, "what will happen? How he'll react?" Sam wondered. He'd been wondering nearly every damn minute since Dean found him. If John had pulled a gun on Dean all those years ago - what would he do when he saw his sons together again?

"Sometimes I get this flash of a moment when I'm outrageously terrified that he'll kill me," Dean whispered and let his eyes slide close. "Are you going to tell him I'm coming?"

"I won't let anything happen, and no, I'm not going to tell him." Sam's arm slid down to tighten on Dean's shoulder. "He wouldn't stay to see you. Said after what you did to me - leaving me - he'd never be in the same room as you again." Sam's thoughts were racing through possible outcomes, and disasters. "He _won't_ hurt you."

"I know," Dean smiled softly and let his hand settle once more on Sam's thighs. "I want a gun. I'm not going to do anything... I just need to have it, is that okay? Can I borrow one?" He turned to gaze at Sam's profile. "I know you'll have my back but... you get it right?"

"A gun," Sam repeated like he was trying to figure out what the word meant. "Maybe that's not such a good idea Dean. You're out of practice - it's been a long time and emotions are gonna be running high. You don't want to do something you'll regret." He swallowed, hard.

Dean shifted back and looked at him, "I'm not out of practice Sam. I never let myself get to that point because I know that supernatural crap is out there. I just didn't bring any weapons because I only own one gun and that's in a safe in my closet. I'm not going to shoot your father, but I'm not going to just sit at the end of a gun again, I don't want him to have that leverage over me."

Sam stiffened, "he's _our_ father and he won't pull a gun on us." He couldn't let go of every little bit of faith and trust he had in his father. His Dad had saved his ass on a lot of occasions, "you know regardless of _why_ you left me. It was Dad who picked up the pieces." He pulled his arm back and settled both hands on the steering wheel.

Sliding across the seat, Dean shook his head and leaned heavily on the door. "He pulled a gun on me," he said softly and turned his eyes out the window, reaching up to lay his fingers on the window. "Jesus Sam he threatened to shoot me in the leg and call the cops. He dug the barrel into my back. He may be there for you, and he may have picked up your pieces, but he sure as hell tore my life apart and set it on fire."

"Stop it." Sam's voice was soft and hard. "If that's what happened, he thought he was protecting me... us," Sam knew it was what happened. He _knew_ it. His fingers reached out for Dean's hip, "you turned out good... can't have been that bad." He cringed inside wondering why he couldn't just shut up sometimes.

Turning to Sam with a clenched jaw he shook his head roughly to the side. "Damnit Sam, don't you even try to tell me what my life has been like. At least you had someone to pick up your pieces. And if you think John's version of _protecting_ us was appropriate, the gun on my back, then clearly we have two very different views on the world." He turned away from Sam a moment later and rolled his body slightly away from him.

"I didn't say that." Sam's voice was cold.

Biting down on his lip roughly, Dean turned back to the window and curled his arms across his chest; clenching his arm under his fingers. It was weird how things between them could shift so suddenly. Every time Dean thought they might be getting somewhere they were running straight up into a brick wall. AKA John Winchester. Dean wasn't sure they could overcome this hurdle. At least he'd get his closure with John and he wouldn't have to deal with that weight for the rest of his life.

"D'you think he is who I wanted with me?" Sam's voice broke and he coughed to try and hide the sound. "Do you think I'm okay, Dean? Do I _seem_ okay to you?" He rubbed furiously at the back of his neck. "I can't even talk to you without hurting you and I lo..." Sam wrenched the steering wheel to the right, spinning the tires on the shoulder and braking hard leaving them sitting in a cloud of dust. Fumbling with his door handle, his hand slipped off it and he swore and grabbed it again, swung the door open and got out.

Watching his brother for a moment Dean sighed and pushed open the passenger door, climbing slowly after Sam. "Sammy," he said softly, walking in slow steps, he eyed his brother, judging Sam's reactions to his movements. "You know I would have had it any other way if I could have..." he rubbed his palm against his thigh and closed the gap between them. "I know that this thing between us, if there's anything... that it's going to take a hell of a lot of time to get completely better and I don't think we'll ever be like we were before. But that's _okay_. We'll get there," he pursed his lips and reached out to lay his hand just barely on Sam's forearm.

Sam pulled away from Dean's touch, he was too close to falling apart completely and every time Dean touched him it was like he was tearing the walls down. " _If_ there's anything?" Sam blinked as he thought about those words. It hadn't occurred to him to think there wasn't. "You drive," Sam stalked back to the car and slid into the passenger seat without uttering another word. He didn't want to do it anymore: the aching, the misunderstanding, trying to be someone he'd never been allowed to become.

Sighing softly, Dean dropped his head and stared down at the ground. He shouldn't be here and they shouldn't be like this but Dean wasn't being given much of a choice. Sam was complicated and broken and more cold then Dean could even fathom and he wasn't sure if he had the strength to carry them through him. A few minutes later he finally turned and walked quietly back to the car, sliding behind the wheel and once more pulling the car back onto the road. Parts of him just wanted to get to the next biggest town and catch a bus home. It was bad enough he was driving toward the person who had ruined his life, add with that a brother who was impossible to predict and Dean felt a little like he was lost in the middle of the ocean. "I don't know what's going to happen Sam," he said softly, eyes fixed ahead. "I'm scared to get my hopes up. Scared to put too much pressure on you. If I had my way I'd be constantly telling you how much I love you and want you and never want to spend another moment without you but I don't want you to feel like I'm smothering you so what am I supposed to do?"

Sam looked out the passenger window and let his head fall against it. "It's okay, let's just go." He was going to have an ulcer by the time they arrived at his Dad's motel room.

"Fine," Dean muttered and kept his eyes ahead as the car moved. Of course the clenching in his heart was back, by this point he shouldn't even be surprised. It was going to be a long drive and to think just minutes earlier he was curled against Sam's side and _thanking_ him. Tears stung along Dean's eyes and he clenched his jaw, pressing his palm roughly into his eye to stop the flow.

Swearing under his breath, Sam somehow managed to shift around on the seat even though he kicked the shit out of the dashboard; he shifted and twisted until he could lay down with his head on Dean's lap. "I love you," he mumbled. "I know I’m fucked up and I'm sorry." Rolling toward the seat back, he buried his face in Dean's stomach and slid one arm behind him. "Don't wanna talk anymore," he muttered against Dean's shirt.

Sucking in a sharp breath Dean let his hand fall to Sam's hair, sliding his fingers through the silk. "I love you too Sammy," he whispered and let his lips quirk up in a smile. He didn't add any more at his brother's wish, simply stroked a hand through his hair and shifted back in the seat to get comfortable.

When they were approaching their father's hotel Sam sent a text message and found out his father was, in fact, in the room. That was the first time he felt like he was going to throw up. The brother's had fallen silent in the last leg of the journey speaking only when they needed to. They didn't fight again, there were no disagreements and Sam was never very far away from Dean. It was better but then, they were quickly approaching another one of those intersections life throws out every now and again.

The second time Sam felt like he was going to throw up was when they pulled up just down the parking lot from their Dad's room and he turned off the engine. The silence hissed in the car as their ears became accustomed to it. "So..." Sam ran a hand through his hand and pulled the keys out of the ignition.

Turning to Sam, Dean slid across the seat and threw his arms around his brother tightly, the shake in his shoulders intensified and he pulled in a quick breath before sliding back. "I love you Sam. No matter what," he stared hard at his brother, scratching at his jeans as a distraction point.

"It'll be okay." Sam reached out and cupped his brother's cheek, "I won't let him hurt you ... or ..." he took a deep breath, "threaten you again. Trust me?" He slid forward, lips almost against Dean's waiting for an answer.

"With my life," Dean whispered into the kiss and shifted in to seal their lips the rest of the way, flickering his tongue forward along Sam's lips. "I'm ready. Let's just do this and get it over with," he sighed shakily and, despite his words, still clung to Sam.

Nodding, Sam held onto his brother for a few moments then kissed his hair and breathed in that comfort from all those years ago. "Let's go," he pushed away from Dean and climbed out of the car waiting until Dean caught up to him before knocking on the door. Reaching back he touched Dean's hip and pushed him in behind his back.

Sam heard a muffled yell for them to come in, glanced back over his shoulder and opened the door. The room was dim in the early dusk. He heard Dean close the door behind them.

John pushed up from the chair the instant he saw two figures in the doorway. "Sam... what the _fuck_ is he doing here?"

It was hard for Sam to even see, his blood was racing around in his body like it was on fire. He squared his shoulders and held his hand out in front of Dean. "I want you to tell us the truth."

Raising an eyebrow John turned and took a step toward the nightstand.

"Stay where you are Dad." Sam's voice was steady. This was his father. None-the-less Sam's hand slipped to the small of his back where his hand gun was tucked just in his jeans.

"Sam," Dean whispered softly, eyes flickering to the side to track his brother's movements before turning back to John.

John's voice was deep and rolled out of his body, "get the _fuck_ out of here Dean." He stepped closer to the boys too shocked to even realize the full implications of what was happening. His mind reeled at the site of his oldest son ... ten years.

Curling his fingers around the grip of his gun Sam stepped back against Dean, hand still held out. "Dad, I'm warning you. Stay there. Just talk," Sam's hand was shaking, "what happened ten years ago Dad? Why don't I remember anything? What did you do to Dean?"

John laughed, stopping for the moment, broadening his stance eyes locked on Dean's. "What did you do you son of a bitch? You lie to your brother? Creating stories to make yourself seem like the poor hard-done-by older brother?"

Sam stiffened.

"Don't waste your breath John," Dean said, voice cold and steady. "You don't affect me anymore. You can't intimidate me," Dean reached out and, like a role reversal from the last time the two of them stood before their father, curling his finger in the back loop of Sam's jeans. "Stop lying and tell Sam the truth. You owe him that."

"Sammy, you know I love you son. I wanna talk to you but I do _not_ want him anywhere near me." John turned to reach for his drink on the night stand.

Sam's hand whipped out and aimed the gun at his father. He steadied his aim with his other hand. "I asked you not to move Dad."

John's blood ran cold. "How dare you... Dean," he laughed darkly, "I see you've really gotten your brother worked up over things again." Making a point of moving slowly John picked up his glass off the night stand. He tossed down the rest of the drink and set the glass back down. "You fucking him again or has he gotten too old for you now he's a man?"

"Fuck you," Dean spat, edging out from behind Sam. "Fuck you and all your self righteous bullshit. Don't act like you’re some high and mighty being John, you're not fooling anyone." His eyes narrowed. "Why don't you tell us about that night? How did you get Sam out of the house? Because I remember what he was like that night and I've always had this feeling he wasn't going to go willingly." Dean glanced toward Sam, watching for any signs that he might do something drastic, preparing himself to stop him if it came to that point.

Sam's brow furrowed as his brother's words started to sink in. "Why don't I remember Dad?" The gun was steady, aimed at John's chest and Sam's heart had settled into a strong rhythm. "Dean, stay behind me. Dad has a gun in a chest holster, left side. Right Dad?"

John's features softened slightly, "Sammy, we've hunted together for a long time. When did your brother find you?"

Sam's eyes narrowed. "Why would you even assume he was looking for me Dad? You always told me Dean wanted nothing to do with me. Didn't you always tell me he was ashamed of us? Ashamed of what _he_ did? Why would you ask me that Dad?" He licked his lips.

Dean slid behind Sam once more; stepping closer and laying his fingers in comfort on the small of Sam's back, letting him know he was there for him. His eyes narrowed on the man. His _father_ who looked back at him with nothing by loathing and disgust. Dean felt his stomach churn unpleasantly and he swallowed hard.

John laughed again, long and hard shifting slowly toward the bed. "What the hell, Sammy? Does it matter what happened? Obviously Dean's got what he wanted. He's driven a wedge between you and I." John shrugged; he knew his youngest son was smart. "You were fucked up when he left you Sammy. You were broken, physically and mentally. I gave ... I gave you some drugs. Got you in the car. That's all."

The gun wavered for a moment then Sam stepped closer to his father bringing the barrel up to the level of his father's head. "You what?" His heart picked up speed and he could hear his blood rushing in his ears. Everything in the room, _everything_ focused down to the words coming out of his father's mouth. He would have fought to get to Dean. He would have.

"Sam," Dean stepped forward nervously. "Back here," he slid his fingers around Sam's arms and glanced sharply at John when the man hissed. "Shut up John. You just told your son that you drugged him, I don't think you have any room to be saying _anything_ right now." He squeezed Sam's arm softly, turning back to him. "Sam, come on, let's just take a step back for a second okay?"

"Dean go back to the car." Sam's vision swam for a few moments until he blinked away the tears in his eyes. "You lied to me for ten years Dad. Ten _fucking_ years." He stepped forward again bumping the barrel of the gun up against his father's temple. "Dean wasn't lying, he never lied. It was _you._ " Sam shoved to gun forward.

"Sam," Dean stepped forward and slid his arm over Sam's, hand curling around Sam's hand that was steady around the gun he held. He leaned forward to speak softly into his brother's ear. "I know how bad this hurts but your mind isn't in the right place right now. If you do this, you'll regret it later on. Let's just go, please Sam." His free hand slid along Sam's back, rubbing in small circles like he used to when Sam was really upset when he was younger.

"Listen to your brother _Sammy_." John pushed back against the muzzle of the gun as his mouth twisted into a grin. "Dean _always_ had your best interests at heart, I'm sure." There was a dark glint in John's eyes.

"Dean shut up... get out - go to the car. I wanna hear him say it." Sam was having trouble holding the gun steady. "I want to hear him admit what he did, that he _made_ you say those things to me. That you would have _stayed_ with me."

Ignoring John for the moment, Dean ducked down and slid under Sam's arm, pressing forward into him and curving his fingers around Sam's jaw. "You can't kill him Sam. Trust me, more than anything I'd like him to pay for what he's done but this isn't the way," turning to look over his shoulder, Dean narrowed his eyes at John. "And you, shut the _fuck_ up for a minute. You tell Sam the truth and then we're going."

Leaning into his brother, shaking, Sam rested his chin against his brother's hair. "I want him... to tell the _truth._ "

John looked up at Sam, meeting his gaze. "What you wanna know how _wrong_ I thought it was? What he was doing to you Sam? You were a kid. Sixteen years old Sammy. I am your father - I needed to keep you away from him. I did what I had to do. Didn't hurt the son-of-a-bitch did I? I just needed him gone, needed you to have a chance to be normal. I _dare_ you to find someone who would say I did the wrong thing. I fucking dare you." John's eyes were blazing.

Sam pushed against Dean trying to step forward.

"Hey," Dean forced the shake of his shoulders back and focused in on his brother, curving his fingers around Sam's jaw once more and bringing their eyes together. "I'm here now. We can go now and he can learn just how big of a mistake he made," Dean slowly slid his hand back down Sam's arm, keeping his brother's gaze fixed on Sam. "If you shoot him, someone will hear. The cops will be called. It will ruin things for you and I know you Sam, no matter what's changed. You'll never forgive yourself," his fingers grazed along the gun, slowly working his brother's fingers from the weapon. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead against Sam's and whispered, "I love you Sam. It's you and me now. I'm not leaving you but you have to listen to me. Let me have the gun." Dean curled his fingers around the barrel of the gun and slid his free hand around the back of Sam's neck to massage gently.

"Let him have the gun, Sammy," John's voice was bitter and hard, "he'd never have the balls to do anything with it. You think I can't get my gun out fast enough to take your brother out? Should have done it ten years ago and stopped all this shit from..."

Lip curling into a sneer, Dean tugged the gun the rest of the way out of Sam's grip and spun it in his fingers, turning to John in a flash and driving the butt of the gun hard into the side of his head. "For the record, the _only_ reason I'm stopping Sam from killing you is because I don't want him to go to jail. If I knew how to dispose of a body properly I'd kill you myself you fucking asshole." He pulled the gun back, aiming the barrel at John's head and stepping back into Sam. "Now here's what's going to happen John. You're gonna stay here and Sam and I are going to leave and you are _never_ going to contact Sam again. If you so much as show up in the same _city_ as either of us I won't stop him from doing whatever the fuck he wants and I'll be right by his side. You understand me?"

John was leaning back on his hand where he'd fallen from the blow. "Get out of my sight." He wiped at the blood trickling down from his forehead. "You're makin' a big mistake Sammy." John shook his head slowly eyes locked with Sam's.

"I hate you," Sam whispered as his fingers curled through Dean's belt loop.

"Let's go," Dean pushed back into Sam, keeping the gun aimed at John just in case he snapped into action. His head was pumping unpleasantly with adrenaline. "Sam," he turned toward his brother, keeping the gun up even though his arm started to shake. "I need to get out of here," he whispered, eyes darting up to Sam pleadingly. He was quickly reaching his limits emotionally and physically and if John said one more horrible thing about either of them it was going to be Sam's turn to stop him from shooting the man.

Staggering back a few steps Sam tugged Dean back with him, fumbling for the door knob and throwing the door open. As soon as he hit the fresh air Sam felt like he was gonna pass out, he was shaking so bad he could barely walk to the car. Stuffing his hands in his pockets Sam yanked the keys out and dropped them twice trying to get in the car. "Dean?" He looked around frantically, "Dean?"

"Right here Sam," Dean walked swiftly to the passenger side and tugged on the door. "We gotta get out of here before he changes his mind and doesn't let us go," he glanced behind him. "I need to get somewhere that we can just _be_ for awhile," he whispered, eyes lifting to his brother, stinging with unshed tears.

Sam wasn't even sure how he made it along the road without hitting anything but soon he managed to pull into a motel off a side road where they could stop to try and breathe, try and get themselves back in control. On autopilot Sam dropped Dean off at the office and drove around the back of the motel to hide the car although he knew his father wouldn't come after them. John was done. By the time Sam had locked up the car and moved walked around to the front of the motel with their bags Dean had a room key and was waiting for him restlessly by an open door. Sam moved quickly and brushed past Dean into the room and dropped the bags just inside the room.

Dean's mind was still racing as he followed Sam into the room and shut the door behind him. His eyes were fixed on Sam, watching his expression and the tension stiffening his body. "Sammy..." he whispered and stepped forward, reaching out for him and waiting to make sure it was what Sam wanted. He knew he was practically desperate to cling to his brother and shove the whole horrible afternoon away.

Stumbling forward Sam grabbed onto Dean burying his face in his brother's neck. "I'm so sorry," he sobbed, "I believed you ... I know you'll never think that now because I didn't say it. I did," he dragged in a huge lung full of air, "I swear I believed you, I'm so sor..." his voice caught and he sobbed out a groan.

"Shh Sammy, it's okay," Dean squeezed him tight before pulling his head up and forcing their eyes to meet. "I heard you last night. I wasn't asleep Sam. I know you believed me," he smiled softly before stepping in once more and clinging to him. After a moment he pushed them back onto the bed, spreading out to hold Sam against his chest. "I love you Sammy."

Sam couldn't come up with anymore words and he figured that was probably okay. He just held on to Dean struggling up through the craziness to try and find his way back to that place where things were okay once upon a time. For a while Sam just tried to breathe and then he wanted his mouth all over his brother's face, his neck his lips. He wanted to feel Dean, know that his brother was real, know that they were okay and alive for a few minutes.

Pulling in a slow breath, Dean's eyes flickered closed as Sam's lips slid across his skin. The touch was warm, comforting even if Sam was simply trying to _get_ comfort. Just to know that they'd faced John, that the truth was out there and now they had the chance to start over. Things would never be like they had been before but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. He turned his face and caught Sam's lips, letting them slide together in a long, gentle motion.

Exhausted, bone-tired and drained, Sam pulled back a little and ran his hand over his brother's hair. "I need... to sleep." He shoved his hands under his brother's jacket and pushed it off then tugged him up by the material so they were both sitting on the edge of the bed. Eyes heavy, Sam helped Dean out of his jacket then slid his hands under his brother's shirt and pulled it up over his head. He motioned for Dean to stand up.

With a very faint smile Dean pushed up and reached out for Sam, dipping down to push at Sam's coat then work at the buttons. As Sam was slipping out his coat and shirt, Dean undid his button and zipper. "You stand too, pants off," he tugged Sam toward him, wiggling his hips to get the denim to fall below his waist.

Standing Sam leaned heavily against his brother for a few moments then shifted to get out of his jeans. "C'mon..." he tugged at the covers and got into the bed reaching out for Dean's hand and pulling him down.

Climbing into the bed beside Sam, Dean snuggled in beside him and settled an arm over his chest. "Night," he said softly, settling his hand in Sam's hair.


	7. Chapter 7

"Man I never thought I'd be so happy to see this place," Dean muttered as they stepped into his apartment. He adjusted the strap on his bag for a moment before chucking it toward his bedroom. He'd go through it later. Right now he wanted a beer, Sam in his bed, and a shower. Not necessarily in that order. "Beer?" He asked over his shoulder as he headed for the kitchen, tugging open the fridge and pulling out a couple beers.

"No thanks, I'm gonna be driving." Sam shifted nervously by the door.

Dean's shoulders stiffened and he stood slowly, staring at the fridge for a minute before turning to Sam. "Driving?" He asked slowly, the word settled low in the pit of his stomach and he stepped back toward the wall. "You're... leaving."

Stuffing his hands in his pockets Sam leaned back against the door and let out a sigh. "I need ... I need to get back to where I work right. Find out..." Sam blinked a few times as his shoulders sagged. "I was okay before, hunting and I'm not okay now. I need to be okay. My mind... my head - it's all fucked up." He looked up at his brother's green eyes - _God_ why did they have to show everything he was thinking?

"I'm not enough to make things right?" Dean asked softly, falling heavily back against the wall. He felt like an idiot. For thinking that they were just going to be okay, for thinking that Sam would even want to stay after everything. He'd practically been saying it the entire time. Tears pricked along his eyes and he let his eyes fall to the floor, hand coming up to rub at his heart that suddenly ached worse than he ever remembered feeling. "Will you come back to me?" He lifted watery eyes up to Sam, letting the burn of tears trail down his cheeks. "Will I ever get to see you again?"

Sam took a couple of steps forward then stopped, not knowing if he could still leave if he touched his brother. "I'll try." Yanking his hands out of his pockets Sam ran one of them through his hair. "I promise I'll try but you... you should have someone who's a whole person. Someone who's not all smashed up inside." His fingers twitched at his thigh.

Dean pushed off the wall and walked swiftly to Sam, almost collapsing into his body. "I don't care Sam. I want _you_. Even if that means you're all smashed," he curled his fingers in Sam's shirt and buried his head into his shoulder, lungs clenching with a tight sob. "I love you. I thought that was enough. I thought you wanted me," Dean straightened slightly, searching his brother's face. "How am I supposed to let you walk out that door without knowing if you're coming back or not? How am I supposed to keep going after that?" Dean could feel the collar of his shirt beginning to grow damp from the force of his tears but he didn't swipe at them, just tightened his fingers in Sam's shirt and tried to keep his legs from giving out.

Sucking his bottom lip into his mouth Sam closed his eyes. He could feel his pulse throbbing in his temples, he ached everywhere and he was so tired. "Don't..." his hands curled around Dean's shoulders and pushed him back just a little. "You'll be fine - I'm just gonna... I gotta be by myself." He drew in a big breath. "I can be okay sometimes, by myself you know? I fucked everything up, Dean and I need to figure out how to live with that." Lifting his hand he rubbed the backs of his fingers across Dean's cheek. "I do love you. So much it hurts."

Collapsing onto the floor, Dean pulled in deep breaths, trying to gain some control over himself. He wrapped his arms around Sam's legs and buried himself in the denim. "Then don't go. Please don't go Sammy. I don't want to live without you anymore. I can be whatever you want. You don't even have to live here," he sobbed around the words, not even sure if they made sense to Sam but pressing on regardless. "Or I can go with you. I'll give it all up. I'll hunt with you and-and you can drive all the time and I'll do whatever you want. _Please_ ," he hiccupped on the last word and rocked forward to cling to Sam as tight as he possibly could.

" _Jesus_ Christ," Sam could feel panic crawling up his throat as tears welled up in his eyes. "This isn't fair," he murmured as he tried to step out of Dean's grasp. "I.. I...I told you the truth all along. I never lied. I said... I said I wasn't okay." He stumbled and fell backwards wrist cracking hard against the floor and pulling a pained grunt out of him. "Dean! Fuck, let me fuckin' go!" He kicked his legs and shifted back. The worst part, the absolutely _fucking_ worst thing was that it would have been Sam. Ten years ago - on the floor - if his father hadn't stood between them; if Dean hadn't said the words that froze Sam to the spot he knew that he would have been the one clinging to his brother. He knew exactly what Dean was feeling - knew exactly what it was like to have your insides split apart when someone was torn away from you and still, there was nothing Sam could do. It was too much.

Sliding back against the floor as far as he could get before bumping into the wall, Dean curled his legs into himself and shook from the force of rejection and pain rocking through him. After a few minutes, when he finally felt like he could get his throat into gear, he whispered, "Then just go." He wished he could blame this on someone, wished John was here holding a gun to Sam to make him leave so Dean wouldn't feel so much like he was just unwanted. _Ten years_ thinking about finding Sam again and in the end he still didn't get to be with him. He was going to be alone all over again and this time there would be no one to search for. "If you're leaving, _go_. I can't take this anymore." He curled his fist into his chest as if that would hold his heart together when it was already too late.

Sam's lip trembled and his bit down on it hard, frowning through his tears. "So that's it."

Forcing himself to look up at his brother, Dean's voice shook as he pushed out words, "You're the one leaving. I'll be here. And I'll still be waiting because you're the only person I ever loved and will ever love."

Staring at Dean for a few moments Sam sniffed, wiped at his face then turned and walked back toward the door. "I love you," he said and walked out closing the door quietly behind him.

For a minute or two Dean allowed himself to hold on to some little hope that Sam would change his mind. He started counting slowly in his head, counting the dull beats of his heart until he reached a hundred. Then he surged up off the floor and yanked open the door, darting as fast as he could to the parking lot. The spot that his brother's car had been in was empty and he stared at it with cold, hard realization. Sam had actually _left_. Choking on another sob he collapsed down onto the hard, unforgiving asphalt and thought how, for the second time in his life, the only comfort he had was solid tar keeping him grounded. Dean had no idea how much time had passed before he stood; only that it was raining now and he was shivering uncontrollably and he was, once again, completely alone.

It was Saturday before Dean managed to drag himself out of his bed. Considering they'd returned home on a Thursday, Dean thought two days wasn't that bad. Even if only got up to eat something because the sheer lack of food he'd had over the past two days was finally trumping his lack of appetite. Every sound from outside had his heart racing a little, his eyes shifting to the door, thinking maybe Sam had come back. The real kicker was he'd take Sam back in a _heartbeat_ if the man showed up at his door. Dean supposed it would always be that way. Maybe he was some sort of glutton for heart break.

There wasn't much else to do but try and keep living, which took about as much energy as he had. Thoughts like moving away, disappearing so Sam could never find him, never even entered his mind. He hadn't been lying when he told Sam he'd be here. He'd wait until the end of his days if that's what it took. On Monday he considered starting up his computer to run a trace to try and find Sam but he knew it was pointless. His brother didn't want to be found. He didn't even leave a phone number.

Dean went back to teaching though he knew his students could tell he had changed, shifted. He found it almost impossible to smile and the ones he did manage were so forced it practically hurt. Even his fellow teachers seemed to notice and Dean went from being the cool, fun teacher, to being the dark and mysterious one with something so clearly broken in him it was almost tangible.

As the days shifted to weeks he began reading. Learning. Studying on subjects so that he might slowly shift away from teaching mythology. It hurt too much to talk about supernatural beings, knowing his brother was out there dealing with them on a daily basis, _hunting_ them because it was the only thing that made him feel okay. Since all his free time was spent reading and studying, Dean didn't have that much time to dwell. Not until the lights were out and he stared at the ceiling, desperately searching for answers in the white non-patterns.

Two months after Sam left, two months after his heart had once more been ripped from his chest, Dean scheduled an appointment with the dean of the school. It took a fair bit of negotiating but he managed to convince the main to give him strictly literature subjects to teach the following semester. It was all fiction based classes, which appealed most to him, and Dean let himself be consumed with the words. Living someone else's life for awhile was a lot easier then living with the empty hollow shell that was himself.

Through the first half of the next year he began a collection of those books, buying a large bookshelf and filling it with book after book. Every time he added one to the collection he wondered what Sam would think if he ever returned. He'd probably just assume he still didn't know his brother and that they'd never work. Dean hated the fact that he had to keep going when it felt like there was nothing to keep going for.

The morning of Sam's twenty seventh birthday Dean stared at the calendar for a long time. It was the only date marked on all the pages. Just a simply little S with a heart beside it and it brought familiar tears to his eyes. Excluding one little rocky week of feeling _something_ , Dean had been alone for eleven years. And counting.

Summer break was coming up so he began hording books, buying them in the dozens and filling up his schedule with the plan to read. Read as much as possible and teach two summer courses on mid century British literature. His ears still quirked at the sound of an engine outside but he stopped looking at the door with hope. There wasn't much point to that any more. Dean simply had no choice but to keep going, even as the semester ended and he faced the daunting idea of spending most days alone in his apartment.

So, he got a dog. It seemed like an odd decision after the fact and he hadn't even planned on it but the old man down the hall - that he'd only seen on a few occasions - passed away and his granddaughter couldn't take the mutt with her. The dog, who was named Buster, was already accustomed to sitting on his master's lap and laying contently there for hours on end so they got along pretty well. And though he wasn't much in the way of company, Dean didn't feel quite as alone with another heart beat in the small space so it was something. And he enjoyed the warmth of the animal on his lap as he read, occasionally making comments aloud that only sometimes had his brother's name attached.

Sam sat in the car and held his phone in his hand, flipping it over and over, staring down at the screen. He had looked at Dean's number a lot, worrying, hoping that if he ever used it that it would still be the same; there would still be a voice on the other end of the line. The thing was, Sam didn't know what to say. It had been so long and even though Sam had ached every moment he had to keep driving. For now, the hunting was over and Sam wanted to go home. He just wasn't sure if home would still be there. Sam wasn't even sure he knew how long it had been since he'd last parked in front of his brother's home.

At first he tried to count the days but it hurt too much and made him entirely too aware of what he had done to Dean. Counting hunts worked for a while but Sam lost track, after all, that was the point. Sam was trying to lose track of himself again. The problem was Sam could never drive fast enough to get away from himself.

He knew the seasons had changed a few times since he left Dean. He knew that he'd done two oil changes on the car, put a few thousand extra miles on her and changed most of the belts. And then, Sam got in over his head on a hunt. The thing was, it wasn't some supernatural creature. He was hunting what he thought was some malevolent sprit and it was a big guy with a sick mind and a lot of weapons. Sam found himself at one in the morning caught in a headlock with a knife at his throat. He didn't know what happened. The universe? Fate? Some fucked up sense of justice or balance? Maybe Sam had actually spent enough time torturing himself and someone noticed. When he woke up with a gash on his throat and missing quite a bit of blood something changed inside him. Something big changed. It sounded stupid in his own mind but Sam needed to get back to his brother; he needed to tell Dean that he had made a lot of mistakes. He needed to tell his brother that he wasn't going to be okay on the road.

He stood in front of Dean's door for a full ten minutes before he had the courage to actually knock on the door. As he waited, his fingers drifted up the ragged scar on his neck.

Dean had been in the middle of Jane Eyre, which was an odd favourite of his, when the knock sounded and echoed through the apartment he looked up, heart dipping oddly. No one _ever_ came to see him. Buster shifted up, tail thumping with curiosity and Dean pushed him gently before he stood and walked slowly toward the door. His hand rested on the lock for a moment before he turned it painfully slow and curled his fingers around the door knob. Pulling it open, his heart literally flipped upside down as he stared up at his brother. It was a Wednesday, just an average middle of the week day in the beginning of June and here was Sam. Blinking a few times, he stepped back, opening the door wider and granting his brother silent entry. He didn't even know if he could get his mouth to form his name but his thoughts were sure pounding it over and over.

The pain in Sam's chest went away the instant he saw his brother's face. He blinked a few times, trying to smile and failing miserably. He slipped inside the door and pushed it closed behind him. His hand moved out so he could brush his fingers against the back of Dean's hand. He still hadn't managed to find the right words after all the time sitting in the car, the fact that he was standing in front of his brother just made it feel like he's wasted so much time getting there. "Dean," his voice was barely above a whisper and he could feel tears prickling behind his eyes, "I..." he swallowed again as his head dipped down and he struggled to get the words out, "I wanna come home." Tears started to fall down his cheeks and he gasped in a breath and hoped with everything he had that he hadn't waited too long.

"Sammy," Dean whispered in surprise before stepping forward and throwing his arms around him. He'd waited so _long_ to hear those words and he thought they'd never come. His hands went almost instantly to Sam's hair, twining in the only vaguely familiar silky feel. "God I've been waiting so long..." his knees dipped slightly and he stepped back, swiping the tears from Sam's cheeks. "Do... you want something to drink? Wanna sit? Come sit," he tugged Sam toward the couch and pushed Buster aside, yanking at his arm to get him down on the sofa because he was fairly certain his body was about to give up the ability to stand.

Sam sniffed and wiped at his eyes, "you got a dog." Blinking his eyes a few times he leaned down and held out his hand, "hey buddy." The little dog sniffed at his fingers then licked his hand and Sam smiled and scratched him behind the ears. "I can't believe you got a dog." Leaning back slowly Sam settled against the back of the couch. Fingers curling into his thighs he ran his tongue along the front of his teeth and stared ahead; he was terrified to look at his brother. "I owe you an apology." Finally, words that were easy to say.

Swallowing hard for a few minutes Dean shifted on the couch and let his eyes drag along Sam's body. "Buster. He was my neighbor's dog," he informed slowly then pulled in a deep breath and settled his eyes on Sam's face. His gazed fixed on the scar and he frowned, leaning forward to run his fingers along his neck. "Jesus Sammy what happened?" He tilted Sam's head back to get a better look, frown deepening in concern.

"Made a mistake." Sam cleared his throat and turned to face Dean, taking his hand quickly like he was terrified Dean was going to disappear. "Listen, I gotta say this." He lifted his head and peered at his brother from under his hair, "I treated you like hell. I know that." He gritted his teeth for a second, knee bouncing as he tried to stay in control of his emotions. A few deep breaths later he went on, "I know that the way I left here," he looked down at his brother's hand held so tightly in his, "I don't deserve to come back. I know that." A single tear rolled down his cheek and Sam squeezed his eyes shut. "I just wanted to come and tell you that I realized what I did was wrong and ..." he let out a shuddering breath and just sat there trying not to shake.

"Sam..." Dean whispered and shifted forward, squeezing Sam's hand in his own. "I'm not gonna lie. You hurt me, really bad. But... I told you then I would continue to wait and I have." He leaned forward and let his cheek rest against Sam's, breathing deeply. "I still want you Sam. I still _need_ you. But I can't do this again unless I know it's for real. I need to know that you're not going to leave me again because I can't go through that again... I can't handle being broken apart again." He pulled back to meet Sam's eyes, searching them curiously. "Can you promise me that?"

"I promise. Dean, I promise and if I have to, if you need me to," he rushed out swallowing around the lump in his throat, "I'll go ... and I'll wait." He lost the battle to hold his tears back. He gasped in a breath and curled his fingers over Dean's thigh, "if I have to I'll wait however long it takes to earn your trust." He was having trouble catching his breath and wiped his face again with his sleeve. "God, I'm so sorry," his head fell and he sobbed, shaking and clinging to Dean's hand.

Shifting onto Sam's lap, throwing a leg over his thighs, Dean slid as close to Sam as he could get, melding their bodies together and holding him close. "I don't need to wait Sam. I believe you," he whispered and rocked Sam against his body, pulling him back to press kisses along Sam's tear stained cheeks. "It's okay. I'm here and you're here and we can start new. You, me and Buster." He grinned softly down at Sam, not even noticing his own tears because the feeling of joy was a thousand times better than anything he could remember feeling in a very long time.

Dean's lips were right there and Sam didn't want to wait. Pressing up against Dean's body he brushed their lips together feeling almost shy, nervous. Then the heat flooded through him like always and the scent of Dean was all around him. Sam's hands slid up his brother's back curling over Dean's shoulders and crushing him against his own chest to deepen the kiss. Tongue sliding tentatively along Dean's lips, slipping into his brother's mouth - Sam moaned. _God_ he'd missed this, missed Dean's body, his warmth, _home._ Lips sliding to the side, Sam mouthed his way across his brothers cheek and whispered, "I want you..." he kissed the patch of skin in front of his brother's ear, "it's all I've thought about ... it aches..."

"Okay," Dean nodded and pushed up, tugging Sam off the couch. "Stay Buster," he pointed at the dog before pulling Sam toward his room. His lips were tingling pleasantly and heat shot through his body, anticipating what was to come. God he couldn't believe how much he wanted Sam even if he was still trying to figure out what exactly had happened. One minute he was living in his miserable hollow shell and now he felt so full he was nearly bursting. "Jesus Sammy," he spun Sam to the wall and pressed up against him, crashing their lips together. "I love you," he murmured into the kiss and tugged at Sam's shirt.

Sam's breath was already coming in shallow gasps as he tore at Dean's shirt trying to get it off. Flesh, he wanted his brother's skin next to his like all those times he fell asleep without a care in the world. "I'm sorry," he moaned into the kiss, tongue chasing his words, hands finally managing to find their way under Dean's shirt. Sam sucked in a sharp breath through his nose as his fingers dug into the muscle of his brother's back. Arms sliding up under his brother's Sam nearly lifted Dean off the floor as he pushed him backwards toward the bed. Stumbling forward they fell and Sam twisted to catch Dean's body with his.

"Stop apologizing," Dean murmured and tugged at Sam's shirt, shoving him back to rip at the material. "God Sammy I fucking _want_..." he hissed and dragged his hands down Sam's chest. Thrill shot through him as he thought about how this was just one night of many. They were just beginning this new life and Dean knew, without even a moment of doubt, that Sam meant what he said. He could feel it, in every rough touch and gently contrasting caress. "Off," he tugged at Sam's pants, working the button and zipper. "Wait. Wait I have to know something," he stepped back, pulling in a deep breath and letting his eyes flicker along Sam's body.

Shaking his head slowly Sam looked up, "never, not another person since the moment I left you here. I mean, if that's what..." blinking he could feel his cheeks flushing as he looked up and met his brother's eyes, "and I got... I got tested..."

Smiling brightly, Dean stepped in once more and tugged at Sam's pants. "Good. That's... yeah. That's good. And yeah... what I want to know..." he worked the button between his fingers and finished off the zipper. "So this means... we don't have to use protection," he couldn't help chuckling slightly at that and shaking his head. "That's really fucking good," he dragged Sam forward and slanted their lips together, thrusting his tongue roughly into Sam's mouth as he shoved down on his waist line, pushing the jeans down and stepping back. "Guess you still have your shoes on huh?" He grinned at Sam and soaked in the feeling of his heart racing pleasantly.

Smiling Sam kicked at his shoes until they fell on the floor. "Dean, there's ... there's something else." Sam licked his lips and sat down on the bed. Hands slipping around Dean's waist, warm, soft skin, Sam tugged him forward. His fingers slipped under his brother's waistband slightly and he pressed his lips to Dean's belly.

Dean looked at Sam curiously, hips arching forward into Sam's touch. "What?" He asked softly, hands sliding through Sam's hair as he stepped into his body.

Looking up, Sam dragged his lips up across Dean's abs. "I want you ... to ..." Sam's eyes closed as the words locked up inside him. Blowing out a breath he pressed his lips to the flesh in front of him, sucking, licking and moaned, "like before, the way we did it the first time." Looking up again Sam's hands moved over Dean's back as he watched his brother's face.

Moaning softly, Dean nodded, "Yeah. Okay." He swallowed a few times and stepped back to make quick work of his pants and tug them down. "Jesus Sammy I want you so bad it's driving me crazy," he chuckled and pushed Sam back on the bed, waiting for him to shift back. He bent down, trailing his lips along Sam's legs until he could curl his fingers in Sam's boxers and tug them down, tossing them to the side. This time was likely to be over quickly but that was okay, they had a fair amount of time to build up to more. He kissed his way the rest of the way up Sam's body, riding himself of the rest of his clothes so he could slid his flesh over Sam's and brush their lips together. "In the future, I'd like it if we take turns. Yeah?" He grinned into the kiss, grazing his tongue along Sam's lips.

Hiding his smile poorly Sam ran his rough palms down the length of his brother's body. "You talk a lot during sex..." His smile broke out wide and warm across his face. "Shut up," he murmured against Dean's mouth thrusting his tongue past his brother's soft lips. He moaned softly and tightened his hold across his brother's back rolling his hips up against Dean's. Hooking his leg over his brother's Sam locked their bodies together. "Not letting you go," he mumbled then nipped at Dean's bottom lip.

"Not planning on going," Dean returned and rocked his body forward. "Only kinda gonna need to, move, eventually," he chuckled and shifted down to drop his head into the crook of Sam's neck, sucking hard at his skin and bringing a bruise to the surface, enjoying marking him. Knowing that Sam was _his_. He slid his hands along Sam's body, touching every inch of skin he could reach. Pulling up, he stared down into Sam's eyes, shifting forward to graze soft kisses along Sam's face. "I'm so happy that you're here." Lifting up once more he smiled and shook his head. "I know, I talk too much. Maybe you should make me shut up? That's how this all started right? With me talking too much?"

"This is all your fault?" Sam grinned and slid his arms up so he could run a hand up the back of Dean's neck. His long fingers curled around his brother's neck, the pads of his fingers rubbing softly. "What will shut you up?" Sam dragged his tongue along his brother's bottom lip then brushed his lips back and forth softly over his brother's mouth. "Your mouth ... is ..." Groaning loudly Sam pushed up off the mattress and flipped Dean onto his back and ran a finger along the seam of his brother's lips. "Shhhhh," he grinned and pushed his finger forward into the heat of his brother's mouth. Eyes widening as Dean’s lips parted Sam moaned and dropped his mouth to his brother's chest. Kissing and licking his way across Dean's chest Sam smiled as he felt the other man's nipple harden under his touch. Sucking the hard nub of flesh into his mouth he rolled it between his teeth feeling Dean's muscles ripple beneath him.

Dean mumbled around the finger in his mouth and shifted up into Sam's lips. His mouth popped open with a gasp as his hand fell to Sam's shoulder and curled around the muscle. "I'm sorry, I just can't help it," he chuckled and arched his hips up. "My mouth just won't stop moving, Buster's not the best conversationalist," he chuckled and pushed down on Sam's shoulder. "Maybe a different technique? You may have to get creative." He lifted his head and grinned down at his brother.

Laughing low and deep Sam kissed his way down his brother's body. His tongue moved over the curves of Dean's muscles and tasted his sweat salty skin - all _so_ familiar. There was so much flesh to re-learn, slowly though, no rush, _time_. For once, they had time. His tongue dipped into Dean's belly button, swirled once then escaped to drag down the trail of soft hair on his belly. Crawling further down his brother's body Sam felt the heat of his brother's swollen cock dusting against the hair on his own chest and he moaned; he sank down onto Dean's body, and slid until the stubble of his cheek rasped against the rigid flesh.

With a soft moan Dean arched up into the touch and curled his fingers in Sam's hair, tugging. "Sammy, I want... you. I want this. I don't know if I can wait," he wet his lips and gasped softly. "I want _you_ ," he bit his lip and lifted his head to stare down into Sam's face. "Please?"

Sam's brow furrowed slightly, "okay... s'okay." Climbing back up the bed he lay against Dean's side and rubbed a hand over his chest. "Whatever you want."

"The way I see it," Dean breathed and rolled to his side, brushing his lips against Sam's and curling his hands along the flesh, dragging down to his waist. "We have a long time to take it slow," he pushed at Sam, getting him to roll over. He slid his finger forward, pressing it into Sam's mouth and settling against his back, lips pressing to Sam's ear. "I'm going to enjoy feeling every part of you. Tasting you. Making you taste me," he shifted his finger in Sam's mouth and slipped in another one. "Right now though... I just want to be in you. I need to feel us connected that way," he pulled his fingers from Sam's mouth and dropped them low on Sam's body, parting his flesh and seeking out tight muscles.

" _Jesus_ , Dean..." Sam's ass pushed back against his brother's fingers. Overwhelmed with so many things at once, Sam's heart was thumping almost out-of-control. The deep rumble of Dean's voice against his back and the taste of his brother's fingers and now, _fuck_ , so many years. Sam's hips rolled and his arched back as his eyes closed. "Dean..." he whispered, "shut up and fuck me." Shivers of pleasure ran down his body and Sam stretched out luxuriously to his full height, raising his arms up above his head and grabbing on to the wooden slates in the headboard. There were so many things that Sam wanted, but right now, he just wanted this ... to come full circle. Sam wanted to get back home.

"No lube," Dean leaned forward and sucked on a patch of Sam's skin. He did press his spit slick fingers forward though, moaning softly when the heat of Sam's body encased his fingers. "And you need preparation, wouldn't want to hurt you." He worked his finger all the way in and rolled his hips forward, desperate for some contact. "God you're so tight Sam," he whispered, shifting his fingers to press another against the muscle, watching his brother's body to make sure it was okay.

Sam shifted his body, twisting his spine a little and rocking his hips down into the firm mattress underneath him. "Don't care..." Sam didn't care at all, didn't care if it hurt or stung or burned or anything he vaguely remembered from when he was a kid. "Do you remember?" His voice was thick like honey, the words sticky and heavy, "how I fingered myself open," he moaned as Dean's finger moved inside him, "for you when I was sixteen." It was clear and perfect in his mind; perhaps the only day he'd hung on to for all those years. "I wanted you so badly..." And he got his way. His body was in motion, hips rolling, chest rising and falling. Even Sam's fingers curled and uncurled around the wooden bars.

Moaning thickly, heat pulsing through his cock, Dean shifted forward and shoved another finger inside Sam, working him quickly. "I remember," he gasped and pulled his fingers out of Sam. "Jesus I need to be in you. Lube in your bag?" He pressed into Sam's body and waited for his nod before jumping off the bed and nearly darting out of the room. His eyes flickered to Buster on the couch and he chuckled softly before kneeling by Sam's bag still by the door and ripping through it. A moment later he was rushing back to the bedroom and slamming the door shut, hopping onto the bed and grinning at Sam. "Miss me?" He laughed and held out the bottle. "Wanna do the honours?"

Rolling over Sam grabbed the bottle, "if it'll shut you up," he muttered with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He squirted a generous amount of lube into his palm and reached out to slide his hand up Dean's cock quickly then twisted his wrist and tugged slightly. "Good?" he murmured as he watched his fingers moving against the red and swollen shaft. Running his thumbnail around the head of Dean's cock - Sam smirked up at him. "You wanna talk some more?"

Shaking his head slowly from side Dean reached out and pushed at Sam, urging him onto his side. It seemed to be the position between them, the one at the beginnings of each of their too brief encounters. Dean thought it was fitting, to be like this, this time. He settled in behind Sam and curved his fingers over his brother's hip for a moment, massaging gently. Then he was lining up, finding the best angle and pushing forward, sliding a few centimetres in and groaning. His head buried into Sam's shoulder, teeth grazing along his flesh as his arm wrapped around his waist and brought him down the rest of the way in one quick slide.

The breath left Sam's body all at once and he reached back to grab his brother's hip, "stay still," he whispered. _Fuck_ it burned, ached, hurt, and Sam had never felt anything better in his entire life. "Stay with me," he murmured, lost in his thoughts somewhere so many years ago. Dean's heat was overwhelming, perfect, and Sam's heart beat steadily as his breathing evened out again. As his body adjusted he moaned softly, the quietest sound and rolled his hips forwards then sank back again on Dean's cock.

"Sammy," he whispered and moaned loud a moment later as his body surged with the pleasure of Sam's movement. Shifting his body back slightly, Dean curled his fingers into Sam's abs, pressing down into the muscle so he could bring Sam back down onto him. His body shook with pleasure and he needed to _move_ or stay completely still and remember this forever, he couldn't tell which seemed more important. So he kept his hips rocking in a gentle motion, letting Sam do the good majority of the rocking and pressing a kiss into Sam's back.

Dean's body was hot and damp with sweat and Sam could feel him all the way down his back. He couldn't stop the back and forth of his hips or the way his fingers dug _hard_ into Dean's hip. Thinking about his fingers bruising the sensitive skin of his brother's flesh made his cock swell even more. It had been so long, no human touch since Dean's hands were on him last. Sam wanted to come, wanted that shot of adrenaline and pleasure, wanted it while Dean was fucking into him and holding him so close. "Dean... please, _more_." Barely above a whisper but they were so close, Dean could hear - he could surely feel the _want_ in Sam's body, hear it in his brother's plea. Thrusting back towards Dean, drawing his brother's cock deep inside him Sam groaned and slammed his hand down on the mattress pulling up the sheet in his fist.

"Roll over," Dean shifted and rolled his brother over, falling between his legs. He enjoyed their side to side steadiness but right now they both needed _fucking_ and they weren't going to last long anyway. He fell between Sam's legs and dug his fingers into the man's hips, dragging him up to get the best angle to slide down all the way. Pulling back, he let the tip of his cock circle around Sam's entrance, he moaned softly then slammed roughly back in, keeping up the brutal pace and snaking an arm around Sam's body to stroke quickly at his cock, twisting his wrist and squeezing to urge him along.

All Sam knew was he _wanted_ , he had _wanted_ forever and for once there was a way to get what he wanted. His heart swelled up in his chest as his orgasm started to tighten up within his body like a coil. Dean's thrusts were hard and fast but his grip on Sam's cock was perfect. Sam's hips bucked wildly as he thrust into the tight fist. He could hear the noises he was making and feel the rough cotton rasping against his cheek as Dean's body pressed him down further and further into the mattress. "Dean... I can't hold..." Fire flooded through Sam's body as he came. Pulse after tight pulse and Sam found his release; he could feel himself clenching around his brother's shaft; feel Dean's heat. " _Fuck_ ," he whispered as he dragged some air back into his lungs.

Dean had always been thrust passed the point of control when Sam came apart at his hand and this time was no different. He pumped his release into Sam, groaning as the man's muscles gripped so tight around him it burned. His hips slowed as the pleasure sent shockwaves through him until he was collapsing on Sam's back then down onto the mattress, pulling out with a moan. "Fuck," he agreed and instantly tugged Sam into, needing that closeness. "Better then I remembered."

Sam's pleasure was still coursing through his body as he rolled over to face his brother and pressed up against him. "The same as I remembered," he grinned and sucked on Dean's neck for a few moments, warming the skin with the blood below. Shifting so he could rest his cheek on the pillow Sam slid his fingers through Dean's hair, "I need to know something."

Leaning into Sam's touch, Dean smiled softly, "What's that?"

"Do you forgive me?" Sam smiled slightly as his fingers ran over his brother's hair and down his neck to those soft curls.

Smiling shifting into a bright grin, Dean settled closer to Sam and nodded, "Yeah. I do." He brushed their lips together and draped an arm across his chest. "It's nice to know that we have forever now."

Sam pressed his lips to his brother's even as he smiled. "Thanks for waiting... I guess I'd better make it all worth it."

"I think you will," Dean chuckled and let his eyes slid shut, drifting off to sleep in the only place he'd ever want to be.


End file.
